Reward for Perseverance
by Warviben
Summary: After the death of Voldemort, both Harry Potter and Severus Snape join the Aurors. Harry struggles with a lack of respect from his co-workers, an attraction he cannot quash, and disappointment because the job he'd always wanted is not what he thought it would be. Snape struggles with Harry.
1. Chapter 1

**Reward for Perseverance**

by Warviben

**Summary**: After the death of Voldemort, both Harry Potter and Severus Snape join the Aurors. Harry struggles with a lack of respect from his co-workers, an attraction he cannot quash, and disappointment because the job he'd always wanted is not what he thought it would be. Snape struggles with Harry. Non-canon obviously because Snape has survived the war.

**Warnings:** This fic contains detailed descriptions of sexual encounters. Some of them are male-on-male. If any of this disturbs you, please hit the back button.

**Disclaimer:** Yeah, they're mine. Fooled you, right? They're really not.

Chapter One

Severus Snape sat at his desk in his tiny office, perusing the thick file in front of him, a cup of tea rapidly cooling at his elbow. He sighed as he flipped through the documents: complaints and letters of reprimand in number equal to the commendations and letters of praise and gratitude. This particular employee would be an enigmatic pain in the arse to any supervisor, but the history that he shared with this man added entirely new and unwelcome dimensions to their interactions.

Severus looked at the time piece on his desk and sighed again: late. He was always late. Just one more black mark to join the others contained in the personnel file which he now slammed shut. Five minutes. He'd give the git five minutes, and if he wasn't here by then, Severus would hunt his scrawny hide down and drag him here by the hair.

Four and a half passed before a knock sounded at the door. Without waiting for an invitation to enter, the door opened and Harry Potter sauntered his way nonchalantly into the room, a large, beguiling smile, which he probably hoped would help him in the minutes to come, plastered on his face.

"You are late," Severus snarled.

"So sorry," Potter responded, though it was clearly apparent that he wasn't, not at all. "Minister caught me in the hallway." He dropped into the chair in front of Severus' desk, again without invitation, and rested his elbows on his knees. "Let's get this over with, eh?"

_This_ was Potter's annual employee evaluation. If either one of them still found it exceedingly strange that Severus Snape was Harry Potter's immediate supervisor in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the day-to-day grind of the last five years of working together had dulled their previous animosity to a level of acceptance on Potter's part and barely-contained irritation on Severus' part.

But it hadn't been that way in the beginning. After the war, after Voldemort had been defeated, after the dust had settled, after Severus Snape's near-dead body had been retrieved from the Shrieking Shack and taken to St. Mungo's for another chance at life, after the Ministry had nearly arrested him in his hospital bed, and after Harry Potter had flown, literally, to his side with memories and vehemently supportive testimony, Severus Snape had been cleared of all wrong-doing and given the grateful thanks of Britain's wizarding population, an Order of Merlin, and a job offer. The Auror corps had been severely depleted in the last year of Voldemort's existence, and the new Acting Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, knew what he had in Severus Snape. So without having to go through the training that most aurors were required to undergo, Snape was installed as a supervisor in the MLE and was given a team of four to command.

Three of the members of that team, two male and one female, were young but experienced aurors, all in their late twenties and early thirties. The fourth member was Harry Potter, offered a place in the auror ranks fresh off his victory and without having completed his schooling or even sitting for any NEWT's. He'd been rushed through training, at the Minister's insistence, and had come to Snape's team very green but brimming with confidence in his own abilities, bolstered by the wizarding public, which adored every step he took, and certain that he'd finally realized his life's ambition. He'd been chagrined to discover that he was to report to Severus Snape, but, laboring under the respect he'd acquired for the man, he'd adjusted quite well to Snape's new role in his life.

Well, except for the very strange and inappropriate crush he'd developed on the man. And being the Gryffindor that he was, he couldn't keep these totally unexpected feelings to himself. Oh no – he had to confront Snape, offer himself up, practically throw himself at the older man. Snape, of course, had been appalled at the sentiment and the offer and had declined in no uncertain terms. He was far too old for Potter, they had far too much bad feeling in their past, he was the boy's _supervisor_, for Merlin's sake! What had the whelp really expected would happen? To his credit, Potter had taken the rejection well, as he hadn't really had any hope that Snape would ever see him as anything other than an irritating boy. But he'd made the offer, and once a year, on his own birthday, Potter had re-issued the invitation. Snape had no trouble turning him down each time.

"Yes, well, this could take a while," Snape responded, indicating the size of Potter's file with a wave of his hand over the stack of documents.

Harry sighed and flung himself back into the chair. "We're not going to go over every little thing, are we?" he whined.

"We will discuss whatever I feel is appropriate in order to evaluate your performance," Snape growled. He opened the folder again, removed a sheaf of papers, and pushed the remainder of the file away. "These are from this past year. I see no point in discussing anything that happened prior to your last evaluation, except as it perhaps relates to similar issues which have occurred in the past year or deficiencies which you continue to operate under."

The sigh Harry let loose now was louder than the first. Snape stared down his long nose at the slouching boy.

"We will get through this much more quickly without the dramatics. And for Merlin's sake, boy, sit up and try to at least _act_ like a professional!"

Staring at Snape through hooded eyes, Harry slowly sat himself up straight, bringing his knees together and setting his hands into his lap. When Snape spoke in that exact tone of voice, that _Hogwarts Professor, points from Gyffindor_ tone, there was nothing, literally _nothing, _that Harry wouldn't have done for the man. Had Snape known that, his life would likely be much easier.

"Thank you," Snape bit out. He separated the sheaf of papers in his hand into two separate piles. "These," he said, rattling the papers in his right hand, "are complaints which have been received, from other members of this department and by citizens, as well as the letters of reprimand which have been issued to you. We will discuss those first."

"I'd prefer to start with the other stack, if you don't mind," Potter said with a cheeky smile.

Snape ignored him. "I have broken these issues down into the following categories, in order of their seriousness." As he spoke, he culled smaller piles from the first and set them down on his desk. "Tardiness, failure to properly punch in or out, accumulation of inappropriate overtime, failure to file complete and timely reports, disrespect to co-workers, insubordination to superiors, and failure to follow directions in the field. Let us start with the tardiness. You have arrived late to your assigned shift on no less than thirty-five occasions." Severus had made notes prior to Potter's arrival here.

"Wow. That many?" Potter had the nerve to ask.

"Do you dispute the number? I have the records here to document when you punched in."

"No," Harry said. "If that's what the records say, it's probably right."

"As you are aware, after the tenth occasion on which you were late, your pay was docked. This occurred again after the twentieth and the thirtieth occasions. After the twenty-fifth, you were suspended for one day, without pay, pursuant to Ministry policy. Is all of this correct?"

Harry had to drag his eyes and his attention back to Severus. He'd been looking around the man's office, bored with the conversation. "What? Yeah, yeah. It's correct."

"What exactly do we need to do, Mr. Potter, to get you to arrive at work on time?"

"Well, if you'd spend the night with me, you'd be there to wake me up and get me going in the morning," Harry offered. "That might solve the problem."

Snape actually growled. "Leave it to you, Potter, to incur another complaint of insubordination _during_ your performance evaluation!"

Harry shrugged. "You asked."

"I would suggest that a more pragmatic solution would be for you to invest some of your substantial fortune in an alarm clock! I am at a loss as to how to make you toe the line in this regard. Suspending you without pay is pointless, I know. Policy does not allow me to fire you for this. I am considering hexing you next."

Harry almost couldn't stop himself before saying he'd rather have an alarm _cock_, but thankfully he did, because that promised hex would surely be coming his way now. Instead, he laughed, somewhat nervously. "Policy allows _that_?"

"Though I know it will probably be pointless, so that we can pretend that we have made some progress on this issue, will you state for me that you will make an attempt in the future to arrive at work on time every day?"

"Anything for you, sir," Harry said cheerfully.

Snape bit back the retort he wanted to make in the interest of getting through this bloody meeting some time before lunch and made a note on the Ministry-prescribed form in the section entitled "Remediation Efforts".

"All right. Let us move on. The time clock, Mr. Potter. Are you unfamiliar with its location?"

"Nope. I know right where it is."

"Then can you explain to me how it is that on average three times a week, you do not punch out at the end of your shift?"

Harry shrugged. "I forget."

"You forget?" Snape repeated. "Are you three or twenty-three? Do you need a minder, someone to follow you about all day, reminding you to eat your lunch and pick up a loaf of bread on the way home and wipe your arse?!"

"Sir," Harry said with a mock innocent expression on his face. "Is that a sexually inappropriate remark? Because if it is, I'd like one of those complaint forms. I'm feeling a little harassed and unsafe in my workplace."

"Potter, you haven't the slightest idea of just how much I can make you feel harassed and unsafe if I put my mind to it, have you?" Snape warned.

Harry shivered dramatically. "Ooh, sir! That was _definitely_ suggestive. I'm feeling _really bothered_ now."

Snape slapped a hand down in his desk, loudly. "Potter, will you be serious!"

"Sorry, sir," Harry said, looking at little contrite this time. "I'll be good. And for the record, I promise that I will make every attempt to punch in and out like I should. Cross my heart and hope to die," he said, using a lone finger to draw an X across this heart. "I'd rather not stick a needle in my eye, if it's all the same to you."

"What?" Snape said, confused.

"Muggle expression, sir. Where were we? Are we up to the disrespect to co-workers yet, 'cause I've got a lot to say about that one."

"Oh, great," Snape muttered. "Something to look forward to. No, we're only up to overtime, though I suspect that the failure to punch out is what leads to the submission of so many overtime hours. And as you are not paid for unauthorized overtime, this issue is really more of bookkeeping problem. We will not waste any more time on that."

Harry said nothing. The fact was that the did put in a lot of overtime for which he was not paid. He liked his job, and he had nothing to keep him at home, so he tended to come in early and stay as late as he could get away with. Unfortunately, he often forgot to punch in when his shift was supposed to start or out when it was supposed to end. He hated going home to an empty flat. He'd thought on several occasions that maybe he should get a cat, just so there'd be someone there to talk to, but he hadn't broken down and done it yet. Maybe this weekend.

Snape broke through his wandering thoughts. "Your report writing, Potter, is, quite frankly, atrocious. Though this has hardly come as a surprise to me having been unfortunate enough to have to grade your essays in school. Your reports are routinely incomplete and at times make a mockery of the reporting requirement. For instance," Severus said, rooting through the pile until he found the document he was looking for, "this report states, 'I caught the bad guy and brought him to jail.' That's it. I know you know better than this."

"I was tired that night! That fucker made me chase him for six blocks through Muggle London!" Harry defended himself. "And then, when I brought him in, stupid Henry Baccardi in intake is on a floo call with his girlfriend, and I have to wait like twenty minutes while he tells her a hundred and fifty times that he loves her, but that he has to get back to work. So when I finally get the perp checked in, I come back down and get yelled at, _by you_, because I'm still here when I should have punched out an hour ago. So I wrote my report, and I punched out, and that was that."

"That is one example of many, Potter. Thankfully, this deficiency has a remedy. On Tuesday, next, you will attend a refresher course on report writing. It will take the entire day, so be prepared."

"You're kidding. Tell me you're kidding." There was little Harry hated more than wasting his time on Ministry regulation crap.

"Does this face look like it is kidding, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked.

Harry stared at him for several seconds, sorting through the many inappropriate remarks flitting through his head and because he simply liked staring at Snape. Finally, he decided it wasn't worth it, and he accepted defeat, his shoulders hunching. "No, sir."

"Good. I expect to see improvement in this area after your little refresher."

Harry smiled slightly, already planning his next report, which would be so filled with extraneous and minute detail that Snape would likely pull his hair out. (Harry's, not his own.)

"And now we come to the disrespect to co-workers complaint," Severus said, preparing himself for the verbal barrage he was about to receive.

Harry growled. "That areshole Malfoy! If he wasn't such a little prick, with such a huge chip on his shoulder, I might be able to tolerate him. He ponces around here like he owns the place. And I know his father has bought several key people here and keeps them in his pocket, but that doesn't mean . . ."

"Mr. Potter," Snape interrupted. "You would do well not to toss accusations like that around. You may find yourself in a heap of trouble so deep even you won't be able to charm your way out of it."

"All Malfoys are arseholes!" Harry stated emphatically. "It's like it's in their blood or something."

"That didn't stop you from testifying in Draco's behalf at the hearing."

"He did me a good turn, all right? You know all about that. He didn't give me up to Bellatrix and his father, when he had to know that was me. And his mother probably saved my life when she lied to Voldemort about me being dead. So it was only right that I did what I could for them. But if I'd known that they were going to let Draco into the auror academy, I probably would have cut my tongue out rather than speak up for him. And for the record, I don't think Lucius Malfoy regretted anything about his service to Voldemort except that he came out on the wrong side. Just like the first time, he used his money and his name to buy his way out of trouble."

Snape personally and privately agreed with Harry's sentiments regarding Lucius Malfoy, but he was smart enough not to voice them.

"Draco and his mother at least did something to redeem themselves," Harry ranted on. "What has Lucius done to demonstrate any type of remorse for all of the heinous acts he committed? Nothing! Not a damn thing! Yet he's accepted back into decent society, and nothing is ever held against him, because he has more money that any five decent people ought to have!"

"You are entitled to your opinions, Potter, but take my advice and keep them to yourself. As for the complaint, Draco says that you called him a 'pointy-faced ferret' in front of a group of first-year auror students. Do you deny that?"

"You know I don't," Harry said firmly. They'd talked this all through right after it had happened.

"Do you have anything additional to add in your defense?"

"Other than that Malfoy's a prick?"

Snape pretended to peruse the report. "Got that already," he noted dryly.

"No. He provoked me, just like he always days. Ron was with me. Malfoy's always getting his little digs in about his golden this, and his expensive that. He knows how Ron feels about that and he can't seem to resist twisting the knife."

"Yet Weasley said nothing. _Weasley_ was able to control himself, act like an adult. It was _you_ that felt the need to begin childish name-calling."

"He deserved a lot worse," Harry said.

"What would you do if I were to tell you that in order to remediate this little problem, you must apologize to Malfoy?"

Harry sat up straighter in his chair. "With all due respect, sir, I would tell you to fuck off, and I would quit."

Snape smiled a little in amusement. "I don't think I've ever heard anyone told _respectfully _to fuck off."

"Push me, sir, and you will."

Snape had known there was no way in hell Potter would apologize to Malfoy. Their stupid, petty feud, begun at Hogwarts when they were both eleven, had continued, following a brief suspension of hostilities immediately after the war, picking up immediately after Draco had been assigned auror duties after graduating from the academy.

"Stay away from him," was the only solution Snape had for the juvenile antics of the two young men.

"With pleasure," Harry said with relish.

"Insubordination," Snape continued through his list. "Do I need to tell you that every one of these issues you've had has been with me?"

Harry shrugged, not surprised. Snape was a hard-ass who took life way too seriously. If you couldn't tease people and joke around and laugh a little, with all the crap they saw all day every day, you'd go insane. Snape didn't understand that, and Harry seemed incapable at times of keeping his mouth shut. Plus there was the attraction that Harry felt toward Snape, an attraction that was always present and sometimes made it difficult for Harry to focus and keep his mind on appropriate things. He'd see Snape and get to thinking about how those long, lovely fingers would look and feel stroking over his naked flesh, or hear his voice and wonder what Snape sounded like when he came – was he a screamer, or a grunter, or one of those who could come silently? Snape would turn his head just so, and that curtain of dark hair would sway in just such a way that Harry's fingers nearly leapt into it of their own accord. And on those few occasions when Snape relaxed enough at work to take off his robe, and Harry could see the outline of what he knew just had to be an incredible arse, Harry's mind had immediately gone some place that strongly resembled a gutter. Harry had spent the last five years hoping that today would be the day that he and Snape would use the mens room at the same time and share adjacent urinals so that he could get a look finally at the man's package. In his fantasies, he offered to hold it for Snape. Snape, of course, said yes, and one thing led to another and . . .

"Potter, are you even listening to me?" Snape shouted.

Harry sat up straighter, wincing a little when his half-hard cock rubbed against the crease in his trouser leg. He reached down to surreptitiously adjust himself, lest the hungry little monster start poking up the front of his auror robe.

"Sir, yes sir!" Harry announced. "Listening, sir!"

"I have spoken to the Minister about your attitude. He begs me to give you leeway, says you do not really mean any harm, that you are just a young man still learning the ropes, that because you did not attend the full academy, you did not develop the healthy respect for the chain of command that most other aurors have. You may be able to charm your way through every other person in this place, but you have not charmed me, and if I do not see some improvement in this area, the consequences are going to become severe. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said quietly. He knew that Snape disliked his blase attitude, that Snape thought he was arrogant and over-confident. And since he really didn't want to alienate the man, he vowed to himself to try and be more respectful and proper in his dealings with his boss.

"Good. That brings us to following directions. I think you know the incident I am referring to."

"Yes, sir. The arrest in Borgin and Burkes."

"Exactly. You were advised to maintain position on the street and to hold there until you were instructed otherwise. Instead, you left your position, entered an establishment that had only one exit, put yourself and the patrons of that establishment in unnecessary danger, and caused several hundred Galleons' worth of damage."

"But we caught the guy," Harry defended himself. "I'd been following him. I knew he was headed to Borgin and Burkes. I knew that a fight out on the street was going to lead to innocent casualties. I thought that cornering him inside was a better plan. And it worked, didn't it? We got him. And the only other person in the shop was Borgin, and he ducked behind the counter as soon as I drew my wand. And as for the damage, you know as well as I do that Borgin inflated that claim. A window was broken, by _you_, not me, and could have been fixed with a simple reparo. Just because the Ministry decided to pay that shyster shouldn't be held against me."

"Are you trying to tell me that the ends justify the means? That the process doesn't matter, as long as we get the criminal responsible for whatever crime has been committed? Did you learn nothing from Albus Dumbledore's offering you up like a pig to the slaughter?"

Harry bit his lip and looked away in consternation at the reminder of what the Headmaster had done to him all those years ago, starting when he'd been a wee babe of just over a year, placing him in a situation he knew was less than ideal in order to toughen him up, allowing him time after time to place himself and his friends in dangerous situations to prove his mettle, withholding from him critical information, all so that when the time was right, he could be basically _given_ to a megalomaniacal madman with no guarantee that he would survive the experience. While on one level Harry understood why Dumbledore had done what he'd done, the part inside of him that would always be a little boy craving love and security would never forgive the old man for interfering with his life in that way.

Snape knew he'd hit a nerve, that the boy remained sensitive about this perceived betrayal on the part of the man he'd thought was a mentor, and his voice softened. "We follow directions for a reason, Potter. A plan is devised and put into action to minimize risk to all involved, including ourselves. We are no good to anyone dead. The flying by the seat of your pants approach is going to get someone killed, most likely yourself."

Relying on his instincts had always served Harry well, but he knew this was a fight he couldn't win. Snape was all about rules, and Harry just couldn't operate that way. Nothing ever went according to their well-laid plans, and when the shite started hitting the fan, that was when Harry was at his best, re-evaluating in microseconds and making decisions on the fly. You couldn't teach someone that instinct: they either had it or they didn't. And Harry had it in spades. No one ever appreciated that ability until it became personal.

"I admit that I deviated from my instructions," Harry said unapologetically. "You should probably write down that if the same situation were to happen again, I'd do the same exact thing."

"Think I'll keep that little tidbit to myself actually," Snape said, not surprised by the boy's attitude. They'd butted heads many a time, during the planning process for a mission as Harry offered ideas that were routinely belittled and vetoed by those with more experience and knowledge. Time after time, Harry'd been proved right in his opinions, and when the well-thought out plan had come unglued, Harry had kept his head, adapted well to changing circumstances, and, so far, had brought everyone home, including himself. But it was only a matter of time before something went horribly wrong, and Snape would be damned if he would be the one bringing Potter's mangled body back to explain to the Minister how the Savior had been killed doing something heroic and stupid. No, he would continue to protect the boy from himself, as he'd been doing for so long now.

"So, that's that," Snape said. "As for these . . ." he indicated the pile of positive things contained in Harry's file. "These are letters from the public, commendations you've received."

"Aren't we going to go over those, too, sir?" Harry asked disingenuously.

"Yes, let's," Snape said. "Here's a letter from someone in Kent. Seems you rescued her kitty from the top of a tree."

"Mrs. Barrington," Harry remembered fondly. "Sweet old lady."

"Oh, she was quite taken with you, as well. And another from a young lady who says you saved her from a pickpocket in Diagon Alley."

"Ariadne Whitford," Harry said, even more fondly. She'd been very . . . grateful to Harry when he'd returned her purse after a Mundungus Fletcher-like creep had stolen it in broad daylight in the middle of the street. They'd met later for a drink, and when she'd invited him back to her place, Harry hadn't thought saying no would be very polite.

There were several other letters from citizens whom Harry had come into contact with in the course of his professional duties. He seemed to charm people, young and old, men and women. He remembered the names of everyone he met and treated them respectfully and patiently. No problem was too small for Auror Potter to give it his undivided attention. Snape had to admit that Potter had a way with people.

"It is clear that your strength lies in two places, Potter. You have a knack for dealing with people, and you have an uncanny intuition when it comes to dealing with unscripted changes in plan. If you could improve yourself in these other areas that we have talked about, you have the makings of a fine auror."

Harry fairly glowed under his former professor's praise. "You think so, sir?"

"I do," Snape confirmed. "But you will not receive a positive evaluation from me until you learn to keep the small details in mind as well as the big picture."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, pleased to finally hear some words of praise coming from the man's mouth.

"You are welcome. Now, because you have completed your fifth year, you are due a small hourly pay increase, and that will go into effect immediately. Do you have any questions regarding anything we have discussed here today?"

Harry shook his head.

"Then sign here, please, acknowledging that we have discussed these matters and that you agree to the remedial measures I have set forth."

Harry scanned the document quickly, to make sure that Snape hadn't slipped in any more exciting "re-training", then signed his name on the last page.

"You are free to go," Snape instructed.

"Thanks, Professor," Harry said, though he knew Snape hated it when he called him that. "Hey, I was thinking of getting a cat," he said as he made his way to the door.

"Perhaps you can train it to wake you up in the morning," Snape suggested.

"Ha. Very funny, sir."

"Don't forget the duty assignment meeting this afternoon."

"How could I forget?" Harry groaned. "Another chance to interact with my good friend Draco Malfoy."

"I shall sit between you, Potter, and strike your hands with a ruler if the two of you misbehave."

##########

Luckily for the state of Harry's personnel file, Malfoy's team had already been given their assignment by the time Snape and his team filed into the conference room that served as the duty assignment room. They took their seats around the table and turned their attention to Angus Blades, the Head Auror. He was in his mid-fifties, with a square head, graying hair, and a pencil thin mustache marching across his upper lip.

Blades shot file folders across the table at all of them. As they settled in and began to read, Blades began to explain.

"Blue Dragon," he said. "The newest designer drug to have hit the Muggle world. Authorities there are struggling to keep up with where it's coming from and the effects of this highly addictive hallucinogenic substance. There are estimates that as many as one hundred fifty young people have overdosed on this drug in the last six months. Authorities are calling it an epidemic. It's been found in clubs, universities, even secondary schools. There is information in your packets that describes the drug's composition and also the effects of the drug and the symptoms experienced by someone who has overdosed. Severus, I suspect you'll be able to spot the reason why we're discussing this."

Severus nodded. "The valerian mushrooms."

"Exactly," Blades confirmed. As everyone else in the room was wearing looks of confusion, Blades went on. "Valerian mushrooms are strictly a wizarding fungus. Whoever is concocting this new drug has ties to the wizarding world. Our Minister and the Muggle prime minister are working collaboratively to locate the source of this drug and shut down the supply. To this point, the drug has not made its way into the wizarding world, but it is only a matter of time – there is a veritable fortune to be made. One use of the drug is enough to acquire an addiction, so it is obviously incredibly dangerous.

"Your assignment is to investigate where this drug is coming from. You will find in your packet a list of areas where the Valerian mushroom is known to grow. This list is not exhaustive, but should give you at least a starting point. The other avenue of investigation we have is a club in Muggle London known as," Blades curled his lip in distaste, "the Pissing Oyster. The first documented use of Blue Dragon took place here – a young man, a promising university student, was given the drug by an unknown person or persons at this club. From witness reports, the young man became paranoid, was muttering about being chased by bears, and ran into traffic outside the bar. The drug did not kill him directly – stepping in front of a moving lorry took care of that. But the hallucinations the young man was experiencing drove him to do what he did. Several instances such as this occurred in the early stages of the drug's appearance. Its manufacturers modified the formula somewhat to weaken it enough to allow a milder form of hallucination. Killing their clients was proving to be not quite as profitable as they would have liked apparently. So they've now got a formula that addicts their clients quickly and completely.

"So, you have all the information you need. Take some time to look over your packets. Formulate a plan. Come see me with questions." Blades stood up and looked around the room. "Anything else you have on your plates will take second place to this. We need to get a handle on this scourge before it infiltrates our world."

And he left them to discuss it amongst themselves.

##########

"All right," Snape said with a sigh as they reorganized themselves around Snape's small office. "Let's divide this up. Declan, I want you and Riggs to begin searching out the source of these mushrooms. They are highly regulated by the Ministry and whoever is growing them would have to have the resources and the facility."

Declan Bromley, thirty-two years old and a former Slytherin, made notes on the pad before him. He was married, with two children, and very good at his job to a point. Typical of members of the House of the Snake, he refused to put himself at risk for anyone. He was a short, squat man, heavily muscled, with sandy blonde hair, a strong jaw, and jug ears. He was the only member of the team that Snape referred to by his given name.

Louisa Riggs, known as "Lou" to her colleagues, was Harry's favorite co-worker. He'd had a slight crush on her since he'd met her, a fact which he had confessed to her one night when the team had been out drinking. She hadn't felt the least bit threatened by his attraction and politely informed him that she and her partner of several years, her _female_ partner, were very committed to one another. They'd become great friends, with Lou becoming like an older sister to Harry, always attempting to get him to settle down. Harry had been to Lou's home several times and liked Lou's partner, Sarah, very much. Lou and Sarah had met at Durmstrang, where Lou had attended school because her father taught Charms there. Lou had long brown hair which she always wore up in a tight bun, large beautiful brown eyes, and a pointy nose. Harry's very naughty imagination had often speculated what one could get up to with that nose. Lou was a solid and dependable auror, very practical and pragmatic and brave.

"Mainwaring," Snape continued, "we'll need your financial expertise on this one. Someone is making a large amount of undeclared money on this venture. Let's start putting out feelers for someone who seems to be living well beyond their means or who has suddenly come into a large amount of money. You have sources you might be able to tap into for this?"

"I do," Wilson Mainwaring confirmed with a nod as he, too, made notes. Mainwaring, twenty-nine years old and recently married with a child on the way, was a former Hufflepuff and fit the stereotype perfectly. He was willing to do whatever anyone told him, but had no real ability to think for himself. He was not the brightest of aurors, but he was a very pleasant chap. He had shoulder-length auburn hair, a button nose, and the brightest blue eyes Harry had ever seen.

"What do you want me to do?" Harry asked when it appeared Snape was finished handing out assignments.

"Potter," Snape said curtly. "Potter, what to do with Potter?" he mused.

"I'd like to check out this club, the place that Blades mentioned."

"And what do you hope to gain by that?" Snape asked.

"I don't know. Check out the lay of the land. See what I can learn, keep my ears open. It's the entry point for the drug into the Muggle world, so it would be helpful to learn who the players are and to observe the comings and goings of the place."

"Or you want a new place to go clubbing," Snape noted.

"No! That's not it!" Harry defended himself.

"Do what you will," Snape said with a dismissive wave.

Feeling affronted, as though his contributions to this team weren't deemed as important as everyone else's, Harry sat back in his chair with a huff. He sat there until the rest of his team had departed, then stood himself.

"You could go with me," he suggested shyly.

"What?"

"You could go with me. To the club."

Snape stared at Harry down his large nose. "What are you suggesting?"

Harry immediately backtracked. "Nothing. I'm not suggesting anything. Just that you might want to go with me, that's all."

"I have better things to do," Snape declared haughtily.

Harry shrugged. He'd tried. "All right. Well thanks for thinking it over," he said sarcastically.

Before Snape could respond, Harry left his office. Before he'd reached his own desk in the large, busy room that housed all of the line-level aurors, he'd already decided who he was going invite to accompany him to the Pissing Oyster.

##########

The Pissing Oyster was a bar like many others Harry had visited, both Muggle and wizarding. The music was many decibels too loud, and the lighting was nearly non-existent. After a quick look around inside, he returned to the sidewalk to wait for Eli to arrive. Harry hadn't seen Eli Lillibridge for over a year. They'd had a brief fling, a two-month period where they were exclusive to each other, but then both had moved on. They'd parted genially, and when Harry had needed someone to accompany him to this Muggle bar, Eli had immediately jumped to mind. His old friend had accepted without hesitation, and they'd planned to meet here at 8:00. At five past, Harry finally spotted Eli strolling toward him.

Harry smiled at the sight. He'd missed Eli. They'd had some good times together, but neither had been at a point in their lives where they'd been looking for anything permanent. Well, Harry would have been willing to settle down with Snape, but since the older man had absolutely no interest (yet), Harry was more than happy to entertain himself with short-term relationships, some of one night's duration, some even shorter, while he bided his time.

He'd told Eli that he'd be wearing a glamour tonight, so he knew his friend wouldn't recognize him until Harry made a move to introduce himself. Harry stepped into Eli's path of travel and smiled broadly.

Eli returned his smile as soon as he saw the man in front of him and realized who he must be, and the two embraced when Eli reached him, then kissed quickly and surreptitiously.

"You look wonderful!" Harry exclaimed, looking his old friend over carefully. Eli had always attracted Harry physically. He was taller than Harry by several inches (Harry liked his men taller, but his women shorter, as a rule), had dark hair that he wore just over his ears, and soulful hazel eyes. Harry was already hoping that he and Eli might make an entire night of this little expedition. When he looked into Eli's eyes, he thought Eli might be thinking the same thing, and he smiled even brighter.

"Shall we go in?" Harry suggested.

Eli nodded and led the way. Harry admired the other man's arse as he walked behind, then admonished himself to remember that he was actually working here tonight and to keep his eyes and ears open.

There was no door man, and when they arrived in the club proper, they discovered that the club was only at half capacity. Harry took a good look at his surroundings, locating the exits (a door behind the bar, a door in the right back corner of the club under a sign which read "Loo", a door off the left side of the empty stage that dominated the back of the room, and the door through which they had just entered). They looked around the room, then with a nod of Eli's head in the direction of a table in the corner, they crossed the dance floor and took a seat.

Harry cringed somewhat as he took in the club's color scheme: orange and brown. Strobe lights, only half of which were operating currently, lit the room in flashes of color. A disco ball revolved on the ceiling in the middle of the dance floor. Harry felt like he'd been transported back to the seventies.

Harry looked around at the people. They were all young, mostly neatly dressed, no Goth-types or people with an excessive amount of body art or piercings. There were a smattering of same-sex couples who were not attempting to hide the nature of their relationship, and no one seemed disturbed by the display. Harry breathed a small sigh of relief at this – he and Eli could be themselves tonight.

A waitress approached, and after giving their drink orders, Eli asked, "Wanna dance?"

"Sure, Harry said, and he removed his leather jacket and hung it over the back of his chair. He held a hand out to Eli, who took it with a bright smile.

##########

Harry had been having a really good time. He and Eli drank and danced and drank some more, and while Harry had a pleasant buzz on, he wasn't anywhere near drunk. They'd been at the club for an hour when a man took to the microphone on the stage. Once the music stopped, the man spoke. "Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the Pissing Oyster. I trust you're all having a good time?"

The crowd responded with half-hearted agreement.

"All right, then. As you probably noticed when you came in, tonight is karaoke night." Half the room booed while the other half cheered. "As added incentive, you should all know that we're looking for a lead singer for the house band we're starting up. So if you've got any musical talent whatsoever, come on up. You never know where it might lead."

Harry and Eli sat and listened to their fellow club-goers as they took their turns at the karaoke machine. They booed along with the rest of the crowd at the truly awful, and clapped and whistled for those who gave a decent effort. Two more drinks in, Eli was trying to convince Harry to give it a go.

"Come on, Harry. I remember you singing in the shower. You're at least as good as the rest of these gits."

Harry blushed. He did like to sing in the shower, but he never thought he was particularly good. "Nah, I don't want to burst anyone's ear drums."

"Come on, Harry," Eli cajoled. "If you do it, I'll make it worth your while later," he said with a suggestive raising of his eyebrows.

"How much later?" Harry asked, his interest obvious.

"You want a blow in the loo?" Eli asked, a little surprised.

Harry laughed at his friend's expression. "Well, I wouldn't say no, but I think I'd rather have the whole works later, yeah? Your place?"

Eli nodded in confirmation. "Of course. You'll do it, then?"

Harry sighed, then nodded. "Only for you."

Harry stood up, swayed just a little, and leaned over to Eli. "I think I need a little preview of coming attractions."

Eli leaned forward and pressed his lips to Harry's. They kissed tamely for a moment, until their tongues joined the fray. The thorough snog left both men aroused. Eli leaned back and said, "Go. Or you won't get your reward."

"That blow in the loo is sounding better and better," Harry said before he weaved his way to the front of the room.

##########

Harry performed a more than creditable rendition of John Lennon's "Imagine," and then, at the insistence of the crowd, crooned his way through "Piano Man." It was actually fun, and Harry was grinning from ear to ear as he returned to Eli amid back-slapping and clapping from the other patrons.

"You were awesome!" Eli shouted when Harry finally reached their table. Harry plunked himself down into the chair in a happy state of exhaustion.

"Seriously, Harry, you were really really good," Eli gushed.

"Stop," Harry requested, blushing. "Are you ready to go? I'm looking forward to my reward."

"Sure," Eli said, and he stood and grabbed his coat. Before Harry could even attempt to get up, a man approached their table. Harry recognized him immediately as the man who'd spoken on the stage earlier.

"You were brilliant, mate!" the man said, extending a hand to Harry. "I'm Miles – Miles Osbourne. I manage this place. You heard we were looking for a lead singer for a house band, yeah? I'd like you to come back for an audition with the band, tomorrow maybe?"

"Oh, listen, Mr. Osbourne – " Harry said, shaking his hand.

"Miles," he interrupted.

"Miles," Harry repeated. "Miles, I'm really flattered, but I'm just not that good."

"Not that good?" Miles parroted. "Not that good?" he asked again, raising his voice so that those surrounding them could hear. "What do you all think? Is Mr. –" he looked at Harry, obviously waiting for him to supply a name.

"Stockbridge," Harry supplied, providing his cover name. "Liam Stockbridge."

"Stockbridge," Osbourne continued, "good enough to try out for the house band?"

The crowd around them applauded enthusiastically.

"You see?" Osbourne pressed on. "_They _think you're good enough. Come on, mate. What have you got to lose?"

"My job?" Harry offered.

"You needn't worry about that," Miles assured him. "This is a nights-only gig. You can work during the day and do this at night. And not every night. Only Wednesday through Saturday, nine to one. Come on, just come in tomorrow, try out with the band – if you fit in, and you like them, and they like you, could be a fun way to make a few extra bucks."

"Look, Mr. Osbourne. I really can't. I appreciate the offer, but my friend and I were just leaving, so . . ."

"All right," Osbourne said, holding up his hands in surrender. He removed a card from his pocket and handed it to Harry. "If you change your mind, call me."

"All right," Harry said, stuffing the card into the pocket of his jeans. "It was very nice meeting you, Mr. Osbourne."

"Miles."

Harry nodded in acknowledgment.

"You enjoy the remainder of the evening."

Harry looked at Eli. "Oh, I intend to."

##########

Harry pushed in one more time, burying himself to the hilt in the tight heat of Eli's arse, and came hard. When he'd completely lost all semblance of ability to stay upright, he dropped down onto Eli's back, driving the man below him to the bed.

"Jesus, Eli," he muttered. "Jesus."

Eli wiggled underneath him, and Harry rolled off him, cringing as his overly-sensitized cock pulled free. He collapsed to the bed, nearly boneless. Eli snuggled up next to him. "That was amazing," he said, kissing Harry's jaw. "_You_ are amazing."

Harry turned his face so he could kiss Eli, and they lost themselves in the arousing sensations. After two orgasms (Eli had made good twice on his promise), Harry was pretty sure that he'd need a few hours to recover enough to go again. He didn't have a few hours.

He pulled away from Eli. "I gotta go," he said.

"Harry, it's late – or early," Eli said, looking at the bedside clock, which showed four-thirty a.m. "Just stay."

"Sorry, love," he said, punctuating his apology with another brief kiss. "Can't."

"Can't? Or won't?" Eli asked gently.

"Eli . . ."

Eli sighed. "It's all right, Harry. You haven't changed, I can see that."

Harry never took lovers back to his place. He never wanted them to stay after sex, because staying implied that the relationship was something beyond just the sex. And he couldn't get involved with anyone, not in that way, not while he was waiting for the one he really wanted. So he only went to his lovers' beds, or when that was impractical, to a hotel, or as a last resort, the loo of whatever pub he was in or the alley out back, but never to his own bed. That way, he could leave when the festivities were over, with the least amount of hard feelings.

"Sorry," Harry said again.

"Don't be," Eli assured him. "You're still waiting for him, then?"

Harry sighed. He didn't want to talk about his ridiculous, unreturned crush on Snape. "Yeah," was all he said. "Listen, I had a great time tonight. Do you want to do this again some time?"

Eli reached up and brushed hair away from Harry's eyes. "I've enjoyed seeing you again. And I'd _like_ to see you again, but I'm leaving next week. Gringotts is relocating me to the Egypt branch."

"A promotion?" Harry said with genuine pleasure.

"Yeah."

"That's awesome! I mean, I'm sorry we won't be seeing each other more regularly, but that's great for you. You so deserve it."

"You take care of yourself, all right, Harry? And if you ever decide that you're ready to move on, you give me a call."

Harry kissed Eli one more time. He was genuinely sorry that he wouldn't be seeing the man again. He was going to take Eli's hand, then realized that his own hand was covered with the other man's come. After a quick wordless cleaning charm, Harry squeezed Eli's hand, then got out of bed.

##########

After a full breakfast at an all night-diner, Harry went straight to the Ministry. There were reports he hadn't finished, and after his little tete-a-tete with Snape yesterday, he didn't think it a good idea to push the man too far on this issue. The bullpen was nearly empty, with all of the night shift aurors not due in until the end of their shift at eight, and Harry put in a productive couple of hours finishing some reports, starting and finishing others, and even reading over some of the reports he'd already completed but not yet submitted, an endlessly-refilling cup of coffee at his elbow. He'd gotten absolutely no sleep last night, but he was young, right? he thought, stifling a yawn. He promised himself he'd go home directly after dinner tonight, alone, and catch up on some sleep.

He was collecting all of his reports neatly into a folder for submission to Snape when the man himself walked in. Harry took a moment to just enjoy the sight – Snape still made him go all weak and mushy inside (except the part of him that got all raging and hard). As the man strode toward his office, eyes down reading the front page of the _Prophet_, lean muscles powering that gorgeously lithe body under his robe, Harry swallowed the drool that had collected in his mouth. Snape looked up, spotted Harry, and his stride faltered just a little. It was obvious from the state of the man's desk that he'd been here for some time. Surprising.

Snape nodded at Harry once, then disappeared inside his office.

Harry reached down and adjusted his hard-on so it wouldn't be so obvious when he stood up. "Behave!" he whispered in the direction of his lap. "Wasn't last night enough for you?"

His cock jumped a little, as though saying a resounding "No!" Thoughts of his activities with Eli last night were hardly conducive to getting rid of his current state of arousal, so Harry picked up his coffee cup and sipped it placidly for a few moments, clearing his mind of everything. When he'd felt his erection subside a little, he dared standing up.

Grabbing the evidence of his productive morning, Harry made his way to Snape's office. The door was open, so Harry rapped on the frame, though he didn't see Snape at his desk. Where'd he go? Harry wondered. He'd seen him come in here just moments ago. The door moved, and Harry realized Snape had been behind it, hanging up his robe.

"Oh," he said. "Hi. I mean, good morning."

"Good morning, Potter. You are in early."

Harry held up the folder. "Reports. Got 'em all done."

"Up to your usual standard, are they?"

"Hopefully better this time. Be sure to let me know what you think." Like Snape had ever needed an invitation to do _that_.

"Hmm," Snape said.

Harry took a step closer to the man and extended the folder toward him. When Snape took hold of it, he really took notice of Potter's appearance. Unkempt, disheveled, hair disarrayed, wearing the same clothes as yesterday. His overly large nose twitched. The man positively reeked of debauchery: fumes of alcohol and sex rolling off him in waves.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Are you drunk?"

"What?" Harry squawked. "No!"

Snape used his free hand to take hold of Potter's chin to force his eyes up to meet Snape's. Placid green orbs stared back. The eyes were red-rimmed and tired-looking, but they appeared clear and didn't show any evidence that Potter was under the influence of alcohol or any other substance. He'd _been _drinking, but whatever he'd had was clearly out of his system now.

"You reek," Snape said, "of sex and drink."

Harry had done nothing to pull away from Snape's somewhat offensive contact. "It could have been you," he said softly.

Snape stared down at him incredulously for a moment, then released his chin and stepped back. Ignoring Potter's last comment, Snape barked, "Get out of here and go make yourself presentable, lest I have yet another reason for complaint on your performance evaluation."

Harry could see that he had disconcerted the man, and he kept his tone light. "That would hardly be fair, seeing as my shift hasn't even started yet."

"While that may be true, you are here. And if you are here, you are representing the Ministry, which means that you should comport yourself accordingly, in action _and _in appearance. You know the way to the showers, I believe."

Harry stopped himself from inviting Snape along. "Yes, sir," he answered, somewhat subdued. As he made his way to the employee locker room, he asked himself why he did this – why he pined for a man who had made it plain on so many occasions that he was simply not interested in having a personal relationship with him. Why couldn't he just find some nice bloke, like Eli, or some nice girl, like that one he'd spent several really nice hours with one night last week (what was her name again?), and settle down? How long was he going to "save" himself for the man of his dreams, when said man had never given him one gram of encouragement?

Harry sighed when he opened his locker: no change of clothes. He'd have to cast a cleaning spell on the ones he was wearing and put them back on after he'd showered. He tossed his maudlin thoughts into the empty locker and began to strip.

##########

Harry returned to the bullpen, scrubbed clean and mostly put back together, to find an increased level of activity. It was common at the time of shift change to have a larger amount of people moving in and out, but there was an underlying sense of tension that Harry felt immediately upon entering the room. He moved slowly to his desk, exchanging greetings with co-workers along the way, listening to the multiple conversations going on around him, trying to piece together what might be going on. Nothing he heard sounded out of the ordinary, and he was still wondering about the source of the strangeness when Lou arrived, slipping her robe off and dropping it over the back of her chair at her desk, which was next to Harry's.

"Morning, Lou," Harry said brightly.

"Morning, Harry. Just saw the boss on my way in. Meeting now, in the assignment room."

"What's going on? Have you heard anything?"

"I haven't, but I can only assume this has something to do with the paper this morning."

"The paper?" Harry repeated.

"Didn't you see the _Prophet_ this morning?"

"No," Harry said. He'd eaten in a Muggle diner and come straight here afterward. He hadn't even caught sight of a headline. "What happened?"

"Some relative of the Minister died of an overdose."

"Let me guess – Blue Dragon?" Harry guessed.

"They didn't come right out and say it, but I'm guessing so, based on the fact that we're having an emergency meeting this morning. Which we're going to be late for if we don't get moving."

##########

The remainder of Snape's team was already seated when Harry and Lou entered the room, and they wasted no time joining their co-workers. Harry felt Snape's eyes giving him the once-over, making sure he was presentable before the Head Auror, who was sitting at the head of the table. With a flick of his wand, Snape closed the door to the room.

"Last night," Auror Blades began, "Austin McCorty overdosed on Blue Dragon. He died in the early hours of this morning. Austin McCorty was a wizard, and he was the nephew our Minister of Magic. As this tragedy has struck close to home, the investigation which you were detailed with yesterday has suddenly taken on new importance."

At this point, Blades paused when the door opened, and Arthur Weasley stepped into the room. Harry smiled brightly at him – he still thought of the Weasleys as family, even though he and Ginny hadn't married as everyone had expected – and he'd been thrilled for Arthur when the man had been appointed Deputy Minister after the war. As a Ministry employee prior to Voldemort's downfall, and one who had been a member of the Order and whose family had contributed so much to the defeat of the monster, Arthur had been in a unique position when the dust had all settled. Kingsley Shacklebolt had stepped into the role of Acting Minister when requested to do so by the surviving members of the Wizengamot who had been able to prove where their loyalties lay over the previous years, and he'd been nearly unanimously elected to the post by wizarding society at large three months later. His first act as Minister had been to appoint Arthur Weasley as his deputy, a move that had met with approval almost as unanimous as his own.

Arthur returned Harry's smile, then said amiably, "Hello, all. Forgive me for being late. Please, Auror Blades, continue."

Arthur sat, and Blades continued. "As I was saying, Deputy Minister, our fledgling investigation into the manufacture and supply of Blue Dragon, an obvious wizarding creation, has acquired new urgency in the face of the recent death of the first of our kind. Austin McCorty was with friends last evening at the club called The Pissing Oyster." Harry started at this – McCorty had been there last night?

"He went into the loo at some point and met a man there who sold him a small blue pill. He told his companions that the man claimed that the drug would give him the best high he'd ever had." Blades glanced quickly at Arthur. "It seems that Mr. McCorty had been somewhat . . . daring when it came to experimenting with substances. He had taken the pill before his friends could question him about it or its side effects. Within moments, he began to complain that he wasn't feeling well. As his symptoms became progressively worse, his friends removed him from the establishment and took him home. After an hour, his breathing became erratic, he fell into a stupor from which his companions could not rouse him, and he was taken to St. Mungo's. He was declared dead shortly after arriving there. Postmortem examination revealed the presence of valerian mushrooms in his system. The dosage that others have taken with no fatal side effects somehow affected this boy more seriously."

"What time was he there last night?" Harry asked into the silence that followed.

Blades looked up at Harry, thinking the question somewhat unusual. He looked down at his notes. "He and his friends arrived there at approximately ten-thirty."

A shiver went up Harry's spine. McCorty had been there at the same time as Harry. "How old was he?"

"Nineteen last Thursday."

A moment of silence followed in which all contemplated the tragic loss of such a young life. Harry felt worse than the others, knowing that he'd been there. Had he known, perhaps there was something he could have done.

"Do you happen to have a picture of him?" he asked.

Again the Head Auror looked at his junior with surprise, but he did have a picture of the boy, so he dug it out of the file and slid it across the table to Potter.

Harry picked up the photo, and only needed a moment to look at it before he recognized the young smiling face in it. He had seen this kid at the club last night. He'd been part of a group of four, all male, that had sat two tables away from Harry and Eli. The young men had spent an hour or two there, dancing with various girls and talking and laughing, until they'd disappeared. A large lump of regret appeared in Harry's throat, and he gulped it down with a resolve to do what he could to avenge this needless death and those that had come before it.

Wordlessly, Harry slid the photo back to his boss. Blades returned it to the folder and looked around at all of them. "Severus has updated me this morning on what progress you've been able to make in the short amount of time you've had this case, and I want to thank you for your efforts." He glanced at Snape here, and Harry suspected that whatever was coming next was something that was going to surprise Snape, and not in a good way. "However, the decision has been made to take this case away from your team and hand it over to a more experienced team of aurors."

The dismay at this news was immediately obvious on the face of everyone present. No one like hearing they weren't good enough to do their job. They all looked at Snape, expecting him to defend their retaining this case. He didn't disappoint them.

"Sir, has this decision been finalized? Because if it has not, I would like to argue that my team has more than enough experience to handle this case. I would put them up against any other team in the Auror corps. They may be on the young side, but they are intelligent and dedicated, and I have every confidence that they will be able to not only establish who is manufacturing this drug and stop its further spread into the community, but also to build a case and bring to justice whoever is behind this."

Harry wasn't sure if everyone else felt the same, but he was sitting up straighter and nearly glowing under this praise that Snape had just heaped on them.

"I appreciate your defense of your team, Severus, and I'm not discounting their eagerness to prove themselves, but this case has developed political ramifications that it did not have yesterday. Because of who this boy was, the press is going to be paying particular attention to it, and the Minister has already expressed to me his desire to have the perpetrators brought to justice swiftly."

Harry sat back in his chair. This was so unfair! They'd had the case less than a day, and already it was being taken away from them. They hadn't had a chance to even get their feet wet, let alone gather any meaningful intel.

As Snape tried to plead his team's case, Harry shoved his hands into his pockets in agitation. His hand curled around a piece of paper in his right pocket. Curious as to what it might be, he drew it out and looked down at the card given to him last night by Miles Osbourne, and he suddenly sat up straight again. He had an in.

"Excuse me, sir," he said to Blades, interrupting whatever futile argument Snape was making.

All eyes turned to Harry now, and Harry could see the biting comment Snape was ready to fling at him for his interruption. Before Snape could get it out, Harry said, "I – It's just that – Last night I – "

He looked around the table. Maybe it would be better if fewer people knew what he was about to propose. He trusted his team with his life every day in the field, but this was different. He suspected he was about to anger them, but it couldn't be helped. "Could we perhaps talk in private?"

"In private, Potter?" Blades asked, his eyebrows climbing up into his receding hairline. "There's something you have to say that can be said only to me?"

"No, sir," Harry said, and he felt himself blushing. "Mr. Weasley can stay. And you, too, of course, sir," Harry said, looking at Snape.

"What's this about, Potter?" Blades snapped. "I haven't got all day to deal with nonsense."

Harry looked at Snape again. "It's about last night," he said. Snape was the only one who'd known he was going to check out the Pissing Oyster last night. He hoped the man would figure out that Harry wanted to talk about the fact that he'd been there last night, and he didn't want the entire team to know what he was about to reveal.

Snape understood immediately. He didn't know where Potter was going with this, but he trusted the boy's instincts enough to follow his lead, at least for a while. He turned to the other three members of his team. "Please wait for us outside."

All of them casting curious looks at Harry, his co-workers got up and left the table, closing the door behind them as they left.

"What is this about, Potter?" Snape asked. His indulgence could only be taken so far. Potter had better make his case fast.

"As Snape knows," Harry said, directing his comments to Auror Blades and Arthur, "I went to the Pissing Oyster last night, just to check things out. I saw Austin there," he said sadly. "I wish I'd known . . . Anyway, while I was there, they had a karaoke contest. My friend talked me into . . ."

"Wait, wait," Blades said, holding up a hand. "What is a . . . croaky contest?"

"Karaoke," Harry corrected. "It's when people sing along to music, usually in front of a crowd. It's popular in Muggle bars and at parties."

"And why do they do this?" Snape asked.

"It's just for fun. Sometimes it's a contest, and the person the crowd likes the best will win a prize. But last night, it was just for fun. Although the manager of the club announced that they were looking for a lead singer for the house band and encouraged anyone who might be interested in filling the position to give it a go. So my friend talked me into it, and I did it, and then the manager approached me and said he wanted me to come back this afternoon to audition further."

"Potter, how much did you have to drink last night?" Snape asked, his tone accusatory.

"Not that much," Harry defended himself. "Why? Do you think I'm making this up?" Harry tossed the card on the table. "That's his card. He gave it to me last night."

Blades picked the card up and examined it. MILES OSBOURNE, MANAGER, THE PISSING OYSTER. He looked at Harry, beginning to understand where the young man was going with this.

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him I already had a job and that I wasn't interested. But he told me to think about it anyway."

"What are you proposing?" Blades asked.

"Well, it seems obvious that I've got an in here that no one else is going to get. I wore a glamor last night. I'll wear it again, go back this afternoon, and get the job. Once I get it, I can investigate from the inside."

"You know, this actually might work," Blades said. "I don't see a downside, other than that you just aren't able to learn anything helpful."

"Why did you request the rest of the team be dismissed?" Snape wanted to know.

"I figured if I was going in undercover, the fewer who knew where I was the better."

Blades looked at him again. "Good thinking, Potter. Do it. We'll get a team around you to provide support to you."

"Sir, if I'm going to do this, I want my own team working the case as well," Harry said firmly. He didn't care if the boss thought he was being presumptuous. It was going to be his neck on the line, and he wanted people around him he could trust. "And I won't report to anyone other than Snape."

Blades looked down his nose at the confident young man sitting across from him. He had bollocks – he'd give him that. Snape was looking at Harry as well, wishing that the boy could just keep his mouth shut for a change. What difference did it make who Potter reported to, as long as he got into position to help in this investigation? He appreciated the show of loyalty, but it was just stupid to make it sound as though his participation was contingent upon his wishes.

But Blades appreciated the young man's boldness, and he nodded. "All right. Your team stays on it. Keep them looking into who's making this drug, Severus. Assuming Potter gets the position, we'll have to set up a way to keep in touch with him regularly, to pass along intel and to ensure that he is safely operating inside his cover."

"How will you explain his absence here?" Arthur asked, contributing to the conversation for the first time. "He can't very well work undercover and work a regular shift here."

Snape got an evil gleam in his eyes. "We'll spread the word that Potter was insubordinate to me. No one will have a hard time believing that. He will be placed on indefinite suspension."

"Oi!" Harry said. He didn't want everyone thinking that he'd been so disrespectful that he'd get suspended for it.

"Have you a better idea, Potter?" Snape asked smugly.

Harry couldn't think of one. He knew that once he got the gig, he'd have to start spending a lot of time at the club, and he couldn't keep his regular shift here at the same time. He'd be gone a lot, and there had to be some way of explaining that to his colleagues. Getting himself in trouble was certainly one way. He sighed. "No."

"All right then," Blades said, standing up. "Update me as soon as you can, Severus. Once we know he's in, we'll work out the logistics. And I think Potter's right – the fewer who know about this the better. I suggest it not leave this room."

Everyone nodded in agreement, and Blades left the room.

"Harry, you will take care, won't you?" Arthur asked, obviously worried. "This drug seems almost evil."

"I will, Arthur," Harry assured him. "I have no intention of touching the stuff. Don't worry."

"I won't be able to help it, I'm afraid," Arthur admitted. "Will you come to dinner on Sunday? Molly would love to see you."

"Sure. I'll be there."

With a warm, fatherly smile, Arthur Weasley left the room.

"Well, Potter, you pulled that one out of the fire," Snape admitted.

"I know," Harry said with a mischievous smile. "You can't decide whether to hug me or hit me, right?"

"Oh, that's never in doubt, Potter, I assure you." Despite his words, Harry could tell that Snape was pleased that he'd saved this case for them.

"Well, guess I better go out there and act like I've just been suspended," Harry said. "Can I call you names?"

"By all means," Snape said. " Give it your best shot." Snape held his hand out to Harry, palm up.

"What?" Harry said, confused.

"Your badge, Potter. If you're on suspension, you must turn over your badge."

"Oh." Harry's auror badge meant a lot to him. He unclipped it from his belt, looked down at it, and swiped at a smudge with the sleeve of his robe. He handed it over to Snape, feeling suddenly empty inside.

##########

Harry stomped to his desk like a six-year old in the throes of temper tantrum. He threw himself into his chair and began rummaging loudly through his desk drawers. "Son of a bitch!" he muttered under his breath, but loud enough for Lou at the desk beside him to hear. "Can't believe he did that to me! Of all the . . ." He slammed a drawer loudly.

"Harry?" Lou asked carefully. "Is everything all right?"

"Is everything all right?" Harry repeated loudly. "No! Everything is _not _all right! That bastard just suspended me!"

"What?! Harry, what happened?" They had the attention of everyone in the bullpen now.

"_He _said I was insubordinate. _He _said I was disrespectful. _He _said I didn't appreciate the need for political maneuvering. Can you believe that? Me? I can play the game just as well as anyone else. But does anyone else get suspended? No! Just me! He's had it in for me since I was eleven years old, and now he gets off on exercising his power over me! Well, I've had it! _Suspend _me? Suspend _me? _You can't suspend me!" he yelled in the direction of Snape's office. "Because I QUIT!"

"Harry, calm down," Lou urged. "You're going to make it worse!"

"I don't care any more, Lou! I've had it!" He stood up and grabbed his robe. "Snape can kiss my arse, because I'm done with this shite! Have a great day, Lou!"

Harry threw his robe on , fastened it, and turned to go, his robe swirling and snapping behind him as impressively as Snape on his best day. Everyone watched him go, the bullpen watching his exit in awed silence.

From safely inside his office, Snape couldn't help but be impressed by Potter's sense of the dramatic. Then he shook his head – he hoped the boy knew what he was getting himself into.

##########

Harry returned to The Pissing Oyster and found an entirely different scene than the one he'd witnessed last night. All of the lights were on, revealing what appeared to be a much larger room with somewhat dirty corners. Several men were on the stage area, setting up equipment and testing musical instruments. Harry approached them and was spotted by Miles Osbourne.

"Liam!" the man said, bouncing excitedly off the stage. "You came back!"

"Hi," Harry said, unable to stop himself from smiling at the man's enthusiasm. "Yeah, I came back."

"Great! Great!" Osbourne said, taking Harry's hand and shaking it vigorously. "Come on, I'll introduce you to the guys."

Osbourne led Harry to the stage, where he met the band. The drummer was Victor Middleton. He was shaved bald, short (not much taller than Harry) and stocky. He had six (Harry counted them) earrings in his left ear, none in his right, and a ring in his nose. He wore low-slung jeans and a black wifebeater which displayed the many and varied tattoos adorning both arms and his neck. Harry shook his head and winced at the overly tight grip the man employed. "Good to meetcha!"

"You, too," Harry said, shaking his hand out once the man had let it go. "That's quite a grip you've got there!"

"Sorry, dude," Victor said with a shy smile, and Harry couldn't help but smile back. Victor reminded him a lot of Hagrid.

"And this is Skinny Malone," Miles continued. "He's the lead guitarist, obviously." Skinny Malone was holding an electric guitar, and he was certainly skinny. Skeletal, almost. He scowled at Harry, but extended his hand, which Harry shook. Thankfully, Skinny didn't squeeze like Victor had, and Harry's hand was spared further injury.

"It's nice to meet you . . . Skinny," Harry said.

"Yeah, you too," Skinny grunted, and Harry could see gaps in Skinny's teeth where several seemed to be missing.

"And finally," Miles said, "we have Todd Goodfellow on the keyboard." Todd was obviously Goth, dressed all in black. His eyes and his lips were lined in black, and he had a teardrop tattooed at the corner of his left eye. Goodfellow nodded once, but made no move to shake Harry's hand or speak to him.

Harry, his hand halfway up to offer to the man, dropped it back by his side and said, "Hi," instead.

"All right," Miles said, rubbing his hands together. "The guys are just finishing setting up. We'll see how you all sound together in a few. Can I get you a drink while we wait?"

Harry looked at his watch. It was just after one. "Beer?"

"Beer I can do," Osbourne said. "Have a seat. I'll be right back."

Harry drew a chair away from the table and sat down, watching the strange fellows he was about to become involved with as they fiddled with amplifiers and wires and other things Harry had no names for. Miles returned moments later and placed a cold beer on the table beside Harry.

"Thanks," Harry said, picking it up and taking a sip of the refreshingly cool liquid.

"No problem. Hey, did I mention the free booze? If you're in the band, I mean."

"No," Harry said. "You hadn't mentioned that. But that sounds very attractive since I quit my job today."

"No! Not because of this, I hope," Miles said, waving his hand at the stage.

"No. No, it's been some time in coming. The straw that broke the camel's back, you know? This offer just came up at a good time, since I now find myself with lots of free time on my hands."

"Well, good for us, then!" Miles said brightly.

Harry took a long pull on his beer. "So what type of music are we talking about here?"

"Well, the boys can play just about anything. You probably noticed that we've got sort of a niche here with the seventies music and the decor. But we're a dance club, yeah? So it's going to be stuff with a beat. Nothing too heavy metal or head-banging – I hate that stuff myself. What do you think?"

"I'm game for just about anything," Harry said. "But once you hear me, you may decide to just show me the door."

Miles laughed. "I _have_ heard you, Liam. And I'm really glad you came back."

"We're ready, Miles!" Victor called over.

"All right, Liam. Let's see what you got!"

Nervously, Harry made his way up to the stage. As he approached the microphone, he said, "I've never done this before, guys. Take it easy on me, eh?"

Miles suggested that they start out slow, so Harry sang the Beatles and Elton John and Phil Collins. They stepped it up a little with "I Want You To Want Me" which Miles loved and insisted they add to their set. Then they experimented for a while, searching for songs that fit comfortably into Harry's style and range.

Harry was amazed to discover that two hours had passed. He'd been having a great time with these guys. Despite their odd looks, they were really decent blokes, and incredibly talented musicians. By the time their session had ended, everyone seemed happy. Except for Miles – the man was over the moon.

"Liam! Guys! That was excellent! I think we've found our lead!" he said to the musicians, and they all nodded their agreement. "Welcome aboard, Liam!"

"Thanks. Thanks, all of you," Harry said, turning to his new mates. "You've made this incredibly easy. So what do we do now?"

"If you're willing to put in a lot of hours rehearsing between now and then, I'd like to have you open two weeks from Friday. You'll need to put together a set list that will get you through four hours, from nine until one. Take whatever breaks you need, but I'll expect you up there for the majority of that time. If you feel confident that you can be ready then, we'll start advertising. I'd like to have this place full for the big opening."

Harry looked at his bandmates, and they all nodded. They could do it. It had been much easier than he'd expected it to be, because it had been too much fun to seem like work. "I'm assuming we'll be here every afternoon until then. I _hope_ we'll be here every afternoon until then."

"Oh, of course," Miles assured him. "This is gonna be awesome! But, Liam, we need to talk about your look."

"My look?"

"Yes. We want people to think you're hip. No offense intended, but you're a little white bread, man. We need to spice you up a bit. Get you dressed in something a little sexier. Do something with that hair. You know, go a little wild!"

"All right," Harry said. He already had some ideas about how he could fit in with this motley crew without getting too radical. "Let me work on that this afternoon. I'll come back tomorrow, and you can let me know what you think."

Miles shook Harry's hand warmly. "Welcome aboard, Liam. You are_ not_ going to regret this."

##########

Harry sat on the floor in the hallway outside Snape's flat. He'd been here for fifteen minutes, waiting for the man to return home. At least, he assumed Snape wasn't home – he'd knocked, quite loudly, three times, and no one had come to the door. He marveled a bit at the fact that Snape had moved into a Muggle building. Harry himself lived in a Muggle flat, but he'd never expected that Snape would choose to live amongst Muggles like this.

He heard the bell in the lift ding and sat up straighter, hoping that Snape was finally making an appearance. The doors slid open, and the object of Harry's fantasies stepped off the lift, carrying a takeaway bag. His purposeful stride faltered when he spotted the man sitting on the floor outside his door.

"Potter. What are you doing here?"

"I needed to report in. I couldn't very well do that at the Ministry, not after being suspended."

"I told you we would set up a system for relaying information."

"But how were you going to let me know what that system was if we never talked?" Harry logically pointed out.

"Get up off the floor," Snape growled.

Harry scrambled to his feet.

"So?" Snape prompted.

"Aren't we gonna go inside?"

"This shouldn't take that long, surely," Snape argued.

Harry stared at him pointedly.

"Fine," Snape relented with bad grace. "Come in."

Snape removed a set of keys from his pocket, fit the proper one into the lock, and opened the door. Harry followed him into the flat, the smell of Snape's dinner wafting up his hungry nose. Snape set his bag on the table in the kitchen and turned to Harry.

"What is that in your ear?" he asked, startling Harry with the question

Harry's hand went automatically to his left ear and the three new piercings he'd had done this afternoon. He had two small hoops high on the top of his ear, and a snake fang hanging from the lobe. "Oh. These. Part of the new disguise."

Snape looked rather dubious.

"I kind of like them," Harry said defensively.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Report."

"Okay. So – I'm in. I got the gig. I spent a couple of hours at the Oyster this afternoon working with the band. They're really good." Harry paused and cast his eyes at Snape's bag of food. He hadn't eaten in a while, and the smell was making his stomach gurgle.

Snape ignored Harry's obvious hint. "What is the plan going forward?"

"We're going to try to open two weeks from Friday night. I hope we're ready. I've never done anything like this before. I've got a lot to learn. We'll be practicing every afternoon. But it's fun. I have to admit that."

"You're not in there to have fun, Potter. Have you discovered anything about the drugs?"

"Nah. I haven't been there long enough, and it's only been me, the band and the manager, Miles. But the more I'm there, the more I'll be able to look around without arousing suspicion." Harry gave one last longing look at the bag, then gave it up as a lost cause. "So how are we going to pass information?"

"We're still working out the details. For now, we'll just have to play it by ear."

"I have some ideas," Harry said. "But they won't work until we start playing. I'll let you know."

"So there's nothing else?"

"No. That's really it. Just wanted to let you know I was in. Unless you want to share that with me," Harry said with a gesture at the food.

"My mother taught me that to feed a stray animal encourages it to return."

Harry was immediately affronted – Snape thought of him as a stray animal! But that reminded him of something else. "Oh, I went and got a cat today!"

"You should get home to it, then. I bid you a good night. I believe you can find the door."

"Yeah, I'll try not to let it hit me in the arse on my way out," Harry said, hurt by Snape's dismissal. Snape turned his back on Harry to retrieve a plate from the cupboard, and Harry slipped silently out of the flat.

##########

A letter arrived by owl for Snape at his flat two nights later. It was brief.

_Boss:_

_Opening for sure 2 weeks from Friday. Send someone under glamour wearing _

_blue scarf. I will make contact after the set is done. Stuff to report._

_Me_

##########

Harry had spent the last two weeks rehearsing for hours every day, listening to recordings at home, immersing himself in the music, and letting the talented musicians behind him guide him and teach him. In consultation with Miles Osbourne, he refined the look his new stage persona would require. As the days went by, he got more and more nervous until finally, opening night arrived.

Harry had a dressing room to himself in one of the small rooms in the back of the stage. It wasn't much – a wardrobe, a sofa bed, and a dressing table with mirror – with a tiny loo attached. He was nervous, and he paced back and forth in the limited floor space available. He felt ready – rehearsal this afternoon had gone very well. He knew the songs, and he was comfortable performing with the band. What had him nervously walking back and forth was the thought of the audience that would be added to the performance. He'd peeked out into the bar a short time ago, and the place had twice the number of people that had been here the first time Harry had come.

He stopped pacing long enough to check himself out in the mirror for perhaps the tenth time. He'd spiked his hair and dyed the ends of it an electric blue. He'd outlined the eyes of his glamoured face with a black pencil and rouged up his cheeks. His earrings glinted in the light. Because he still needed to be able to see (even with the glamour his vision was poor), he'd transfigured his glasses so they were smaller but still as round and blue-tinted (to match his hair). He wore a silver chain around his neck, its links the size of a cat's eye, fastened with a dragon clasp, an additional length hanging down to mid chest.

His shirt was sleeveless and see-through, made of a white gauzy material. Harry blushed again (for perhaps the tenth time) when he saw that his nipples were clearly visible through the fabric. But it was his trousers that were the most outrageous. They were blue as well, sequined and sparkly and tight enough to appear as though they'd been painted on. They did nothing to conceal the bulge at his groin, and he hoped fervently that nothing happened that caused him to get an erection, because there would be no hiding it. Although, he thought as he adjusted himself, there hadn't been room for him to wear any pants, so there wouldn't be much adjustment for growth in there either. A hard-on would be downright uncomfortable.

Harry had several other outfits like this, each as risque as the last. This was his new life: dressing like a whore and strutting about in front of strangers. He hoped it was as fun for real as it had been in rehearsal because this outfit might be his undoing.

A knock sounded on his door. Harry inhaled a large, calming breath, then said, "It's open."

Miles poked his head in. "You ready, kid? The crowd is – holy shite! Look at you!"

Nervously, Harry ran a hand down his chest. "Is this okay?"

"Okay?" Miles repeated, running his eyes up and down Harry's body. "Kid, if I wasn't straight, I'd be all over you. You look . . . edible."

Harry gulped. "Is that good?"

"That's better than good, Liam. That crowd is gonna eat you up! Let's go."

##########

Four hours later, Harry was euphoric. He felt like he was flying, like he'd imbibed an illegal substance. That had been the most incredible four hours of his life. His nerves had disappeared completely as soon as Miles had enthusiastically introduced the band and the spotlight had shown on them. He'd thrown himself into the music with abandon, and within ten minutes, he was soaked in sweat, dancing and singing as though he'd been doing this all his life. Prior to this, flying a broom was the only thing he'd ever done at which he felt he had some natural talent. But this – this performing in front of others felt as natural to him as flying.

He hadn't wanted to take even a five-minute break all night, but the other members of the band had insisted. When they'd finally called it a night, at many minutes after 1:00, Harry stepped off the stage feeling as buzzed as if he'd been drinking the entire time. His skin was sparking with electricity and his pulse was racing, and he very much wanted to shag someone. He wondered who the Ministry was going to send to meet with him – with any luck it'd be someone he might be able to spend some quality time with in his dressing room.

When Harry descended from the stage and made his way toward the bar and the beer he desperately needed to quench his parched throat, several people approached him. One of them wore a blue scarf tied around her throat – Harry thought it was a glamoured Lou. Damn. They'd sent a lesbian.

Harry pushed his way through the crowd to the bar, where a mug was waiting for him. He drank off half of it before he turned to his colleague and took her hand. As soon as he could feel her magic, he knew he'd been correct in his guess, and he pulled her toward his dressing room. Several pairs of disappointed eyes followed the pair.

As soon as Harry had pulled Lou into his dressing room, he closed the door and placed locking and privacy charms on it. "Lou," he said, "I feel like I'm flying!"

Lou looked deep into Harry's fevered eyes. "Harry, are you on something?"

"No! Nothing! I just feel . . . so incredible. Like I'm soaring!"

Lou looked into Harry's eyes again until she was satisfied that he was telling the truth. Then she looked him up and down. "Harry, you look amazing. If I wasn't gay, I think I'd jump you right now."

Harry laughed loudly. "I'm getting that a lot today. And the way I feel right now, I'd probably jump right back."

"This is all a glamour?" she asked.

"No. I only changed my eyes, and my chin a little. And got rid of the scar, of course. The body's all mine," he said, running his hands over his hips and shivering a little at the sensation.

"So you actually pierced your ears?"

"Uh huh."

"Well . . . just wow. Do _not_ show up to work like that. No one will get anything done."

"No worries. I've been suspended, right?"

"So what have you learned?"

Harry sat on the bed, trying to calm himself internally enough to focus on giving his report. "Since I've started coming here so much, I've started seeing Blue Dragon everywhere. I've seen the guys in the band take it after rehearsal. I haven't been offered any yet, but I assume it's only a matter of time."

"You're not planning on taking it, are you?" Lou asked, the warning tone in her voice obvious.

"Of course not. I'm not that stupid. I'll decline, as politely as I can."

"Snape told me to tell you that he's working on an antidote to the drug. If administered early enough, he's hoping that it will counter the immediate effects of the drug and neutralize its addictive qualities. But it's still in the experimental stages, so be careful."

Harry nodded his understanding. "Has he brought the whole team in?"

"Just me, so far. He thought the fewer who knew the better. I'll be your regular Friday night contact. I'll be here after your show, and we can exchange whatever information we have then. I'll change up the glamours, so I'll find a way to make sure you know who I am. If you need someone to come on a night other than a Friday, you're going to have to let us know. If for some reason we need to send someone other than me, I'll try to let you know in advance, but you may have to be alert for any changes in routine."

"Sounds good."

"Is there anything else, then? I'd like to get home."

"No, that's it. Say hi to Sarah for me."

"Will do. And, Harry? Please be careful."

"I will. Thanks for coming, Lou."

"I'm glad I did. You were amazing."

Harry saw Lou to the door and watched her leave. After she'd disappeared from sight, Harry realized that several of the people who'd tried to get his attention earlier were still there. One of them, a young woman with dark red hair, caught his eye and smiled. Harry smiled back and gestured her over. When she was standing in front of him, he raised his eyebrows suggestively and gestured back into his dressing room.

She smiled and nodded, and Harry followed her into the room. Without speaking, they both undressed. Harry was hard before she'd unbuttoned the first button on her shirt, and when they were both naked, he pushed her gently onto the bed, crushed his lips down onto hers, and frotted his needy prick in the wet folds between her legs.

"In," she moaned. "Put it in."

Harry's better sense beat his adrenalin-crazed hormones into submission long enough for him to retrieve a condom from his wallet, but once it was on, he wasted no time in burying himself to the hilt.

##########

Saturday night was a repeat of Friday night's performance, except that there were more people in the club tonight. Unknown to Harry, present in the large and boisterous crowd was _The Times'_ head entertainment reporter.

Harry decided after the show that the post-performance high was not a first-time phenomenon, but was going to be part of this whole package. He felt just as he had on Friday night: euphoric, unbeatable, super-charged. The crowd waiting for him after they'd finished for the night was doubled in size, and he looked them over carefully before selecting a tall, dark-haired man and taking him back to his dressing room.

##########

The entertainment section of the Sunday edition of the _Times_ contained a half-page spread on the band.

_London's newest hot spot has actually been around for years. The Pissing Oyster on Gaunt Street has carved a niche with their seventies decor and musical stylings. Until recently, they have not offered live music. That has now changed with the formation of a house band which calls itself, fittingly enough, Liquid Pearl. The band consists of four members. Todd Goodfellow, veteran of three local bands at the young age of twenty-three, performs admirably on the keyboard. Viktor Middleton is a genius on the drums. And anyone who used to frequent McGillicuddy's in Leicester Square will recognize Skinny Malone's virtuoso performance on the guitar._

_But the most exciting part of the band is its lead singer, newcomer Liam Stockbridge. Young and ultra exciting, Stockbridge's vocals are dead on, and he exudes sexuality with every note. The band's set list brought back many fond memories of a time gone by. The beat is rocking as the band covers such past hits a My Sharona (Knack); Ballroom Blitz (Sweet); I Will Survive (Gloria Gaynor); You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet (BTO); Smokin' in the Boys Room (Brownsville Station); It's Only Rock N Roll (Rolling Stones); Shake Your Booty (KC and the Sunshine Band); Peace of Mind (Boston); Hold the Line (Toto); Double Vision and Hot Blooded (Foreigner); Back Off Boogaloo (Ringo Starr); Burning Love (Elvis Presley); Saturday Night (Bay City Rollers); Falling in Love (Souther Hillman Furay Band); Life is a Rock (But the Radio Rolled Me) (Reunion); Whatever Gets you Through the Night (John Lennon); and my favorite, Clap for the Wolfman (Guess Who)._

_But Liquid Pearl proves they're capable of slowing things down a bit with Do Ya Think I'm Sexy (Rod Stewart), Magic (Pilot), and I Want You to Want Me (Cheap Trick), and even more with Got to Begin Again (Billy Joel) and My Eyes Adored You (Frankie Valli)._

_If the crowd of people, men and women, waiting to get back stage after the performance is any indication, Liquid Pearl is very popular with the locals. They perform at The Pissing Oyster from Wednesday through Saturday, from 9:00 until1:00, and I highly recommend that you check them out. I certainly plan on going back._

Miles called Harry, waking him up far too early on Sunday morning, nearly crying he was so happy. It took Harry some time before he was able to piece together what the man was carrying on about, but once he did, he stopped listening and collapsed back on his pillow.

##########

"We've got a queue outside!" Miles said gleefully, just before Harry went on Wednesday night. "We've never had a queue!"

Harry finished spiking his hair, checking the blue tips out in the mirror. "That's great, Miles. Should be a great show."

Miles surprised the hell out of Harry by leaning over and kissing his cheek. "Kid, I absolutely love you!"

"Thought you were straight, Miles?" Harry teased.

"Not _that _kind of love!" Miles protested with a chuckle. "The till-is-overflowing kind of love."

Harry picked up the glass that was sitting on his dressing table, toasted Miles with the amber liquid, and emptied it in one go. "Let's go fill those tills."

##########

"We've hired some muscle for the door," Miles told Harry gleefully the following night. "The crowd outside was getting a little unruly. You have been so much better that I thought! That story in the _Times_ didn't hurt, right?"

"Sure, Miles. I need to get dressed now," Harry said pointedly.

"Oh, go ahead, kid. It won't bother me," Miles said with a vague wave of his hand.

Feeling slightly uncomfortable with the man's presence, Harry nevertheless pulled his jeans and pants off and donned tonight's outfit: skin-tight black sequined pants and an electric blue peasant shirt. He looked up to find Miles staring at him, but the other man looked away quickly when he realized he'd been caught. Harry blushed and turned away to begin his make-up.

"Well," Miles said, "I've got a million things to do. I'll just let you get ready."

"Great. See you after the show."

##########

Immediately after the show, while Harry was in his post-performance euphoric state, but before he could select tonight's partner, Miles cornered him.

"I need to speak with you for a moment, Liam."

Harry's eyes continued to scan the crowd which had continued to grow after each night's show. He really didn't want to talk with Miles. He wanted to scratch the itch that was demanding satisfaction, and he was trying to decide whether he wanted the cute brunette with the big breasts or the tall, thin blonde with the goatee.

"Can't it wait, Miles?"

"No," Miles said, taking Harry by the elbow and steering him into his dressing room.

Harry impatiently pulled out of Miles' grip. "What is it, Miles?"

"I just wanted to . . . I'm worried about you, kid. I see you hooking up with someone new after every show. You're heading down a destructive path. I hate to see you throwing yourself away like this, that's all."

"Miles, I appreciate your concern, but if I don't do something with this . . . this energy, I'll go mad. So if you don't mind . . ."

"I have another way," Miles said. He held out his hand, and in his palm he held a small blue pill with a tiny dragon emblazoned on the side.

"What is that?" Harry asked, though of course he very well knew what it was.

"It's something new. I think you'll enjoy it. It'll take you higher than you feel right now," Miles promised.

"Thanks, Miles, but I'm kind of particular about stuff like that. And I don't want to get higher. I want to come down."

"Just try it, Liam. On the house."

"I appreciate the offer, Miles, really I do. But no. Now if you don't mind . . ." The ache in Harry's loins was getting stronger and threatening to overpower him. He needed release like he needed his next breath.

"All right," Miles conceded. "But if you change your mind, any time, you come see me. I can promise you an experience like you've never had."

Harry led Miles to the door and out into the hallway. In the time they'd been talking, the small brunette had gone. Thankfully, the tall blonde was still there, and Harry invited him back to the dressing room.

##########

The crowd on Friday night was the largest yet. Harry scanned the post-show crowd for Lou but did not see her anywhere. He waited as long as his libido would let him, then selected tonight's partner from the ever-growing crowd.

##########

Harry knocked on Snape's door the following morning. As much as he was enjoying his new lifestyle, it felt good to be back to his old self. He could tell that Snape was surprised and not at all pleased to see him there.

"Lou didn't show last night."

"Actually, she did," Snape countered. "She arrived at her usual time and was unable to get in. There was a queue into the street, she said, and the man at the door stopped letting people in at eleven."

"Oh. Big crowd last night," Harry offered, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Can I come in?"

"Is that entirely necessary?"

"I need to make a report."

Snape sighed and resigned himself. "Come in then."

"I could go to Lou's if you'd rather," Harry said.

"You're here. Come in. Get it over with."

That was hardly a welcoming invitation, but Harry followed Snape in anyway. Harry smelled coffee brewing and briefly held out hope that Snape might offer him a cup. When he didn't, Harry launched into his report.

"I was offered Blue Dragon last night."

"Finally? By whom?"

"Miles, the manager. I'm guessing he must be how the drug is getting in."

"And do you know where he's getting it from?"

"No. There are people coming and going there all the time. I've been providing Lou with names, when I can get them, and photos. Have you seen them?"

"Of course I have. She passes everything you give her on to me. Meager though it may be."

"I'm doing the best I can," Harry protested.

"When you're not pimping yourself to the press. And the Muggles."

"I didn't even talk to the press!" Harry defended himself. "Didn't even know they were there." Harry couldn't defend himself from the other charge, since it was true that he was sleeping with someone different every night. "I'm only playing a part, you know?"

"And playing it very well from what I've heard." His tone was hard as nails.

Harry stared at Snape for a long moment. "Jealous, Professor?" he taunted.

"Don't be ridiculous." Snape waved a hand at him in dismissal. "Did you take the drug?"

"What? Of course not! I said thanks, but no thanks."

"Is there anything else?"

"No. That's pretty much it for now."

"All right then. Plan on seeing Riggs on Friday as usual. She will arrive earlier in the evening to avoid last evening's difficulty."

"Okay. Well, you have a good day, sir," Harry said, preparing to take his leave. He'd missed seeing Snape every day and was reluctant to break this contact. Snape had no such compunctions, and he led the way to the door.

"Do try not to embarrass yourself any more than necessary," were the man's parting words.

##########

For the next few weeks, Harry submerged himself completely in the playboy lifestyle. He found he liked this life: sleeping in every day, getting up at noon and going to the club to rehearse, doing shows four nights a week and hooking up after each show with whichever man or woman drew him the most while in the throes of that strange euphoria he experienced after performing.

His only contact with his former life was his once-weekly meeting with Lou, when he passed on whatever information he was able to gather: the names and photographs of people Miles met with, his observations regarding the frequency of use of Blue Dragon. Miles was still offering Harry the drug frequently, but Harry had so far been able to decline without angering the man. Harry had discovered that the other members of the band, all three of them, were hooked on the drug. After every performance, they'd retire to their own dressing rooms and take the drug, and no one would see them again until rehearsal the next day. Harry had grown to like his bandmates, and he wished there was something he could do for them. From what he understood of the drug, though, they were already addicted and likely beyond any assistance he could provide them.

##########

Today was Harry's birthday. He knew he was risking rejection, expected it even, but still he knocked on Snape's door. He hadn't seen the man in weeks, and he'd missed him with an ache he could feel in his bones. None of the people he'd been intimate with had even begun to fill the void that pulsed inside him for the want of Snape. He'd begun to despair that no one would ever be enough, that everyone he was with would fall short of the ideal he'd set Snape up to be, that he would never allow himself to actually bond with another human being because he was waiting for a man who would never want him.

But being the eternal optimist that he was, Harry was here, making his annual appeal. When Snape opened the door, Harry's breathing and his heart rate quickened, and he couldn't help the genuinely happy smile that crept over his face. Snape looked _good_.

"Hi," he said. "It's been a while. You look good."

"Potter. What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you. Can I come in?"

Snape looked reluctant, but he opened his door and led Harry into his sitting room. Harry wasn't sure he'd ever get an invitation, so he seated himself on the sofa and smiled up at Snape.

"So talk," Snape ordered.

"Well, today's my birthday," Harry began. He paused, in case Snape wanted to offer him birthday greetings. He did not, apparently. "So I thought I'd stop by and say hello and see how you were doing."

Snape sighed in exasperation. "Potter, when are you going to get over this incredibly inappropriate infatuation?"

"I don't know," Harry said honestly. "You think I haven't tried? You think my life wouldn't be easier if I could let myself get close to someone, _anyone_, but you? I've tried. I can't . . . I can't do it. It has to be you. I'm sorry," he offered, and he truly was, because he could see how much his confession disconcerted the older man.

"Has there been no one that you wanted more than night a with?" Snape asked in a surprisingly gentle tone.

"There was one bloke that I thought maybe . . . but even with him, there was something missing. He wasn't you."

Snape sighed. "Potter, what am I going to do with you?"

"You could take me back to your bedroom and have your wicked way with me," Harry suggested with all seriousness.

"That cannot happen," Snape said firmly. "I am old enough to be your father. I am your boss. Either of those facts alone should be enough to demonstrate to you how improper any relationship between us would be. Both of them together . . ."

"So is this another no?"

"It is another no."

And Harry knew he should feel crushed by this latest rejection, but one thing bolstered him. Snape hadn't said that he didn't find Harry attractive or that he didn't _want _to be involved with him. If the man felt that way, surely he would have said so. So the rejection didn't feel as final as it might have and left Harry with a tiny shimmer of hope.

"All right. I can respect that. Thank you for hearing me out."

"It is fortuitous that you stopped by, actually. Riggs will not be able to make your meet tonight."

"Oh. Is something wrong? Is she okay?"

"She is fine. It is her anniversary, and she and her partner are going to Paris for the weekend."

"Aw, that's nice," said Harry. "So who's coming tonight then? Or am I going without for a week?"

"No. As we've told no one else about your assignment, I will be there."

"You?" Harry said, pleased. "Cool. Wait a minute. Hasn't anyone wondered where I've been all this time? Doesn't anyone ever ask about me?"

"You have been placed on indefinite leave."

"Oh. What a terribly dodgy bloke I must be."

"Quite," Snape agreed. "Riggs has filled me in on the procedure for making contact with you after you have finished for the evening. I will ensure that I am there early enough to get inside the club. I will be glamoured and will have a spider tattoo on my neck," Snape said, indicating the spot where he planned to place the tattoo.

Harry had to force himself not to offer to lick the spider later, and then it occurred to him how difficult it would be to see Snape, to have him within arm's reach but not be able to touch him, when he was jacked on adrenalin.

"Okay. I should maybe warn you . . . after a show, I get a little . . . the show kind of pumps me up and I . . ." How could he explain how randy he got without scaring the man away? "Forget it. I look forward to seeing you tonight, then. Have a good day at work."

Snape led Harry to the door, and Harry gathered his courage and reached up on his toes to gently brush Snape's cheek with his lips. "For the record," he said softly, "your age means nothing to me." He stepped away from Snape and said, "I'll see you tonight."

Snape watched him go until Harry had disappeared inside the lift, then raised a hand to touch the spot where Harry had kissed him.

##########

Snape sat alone at a small table in the corner of the Pissing Oyster. He had been unable to look away from the stage since the band had come out and begun the show. He'd known that Harry had altered his face so as not to be recognized, but he'd expected to see something familiar in the boy's face, sure that he would know Potter anywhere were he to meet him on the street wearing his glamour. And perhaps he would have found similarities in the two faces if he'd been able to get past the body long enough to study the face. Snape wanted to be appalled at the behavior of the man on the stage: the wholly unnecessary gyrating and shaking of the hips; the suggestive thrusting of the groin in the direction of the crowd; those incredibly tight, shiny trousers that left nothing to the imagination. Yes, he'd wanted to be appalled, but he'd only managed to feel . . . aroused. Unbelievably and achingly aroused. Shortly before 1:00, when he knew Harry was scheduled to finish his set, Snape forced himself to look away, so that he could get his body back under control before going to meet with Harry.

##########

"Liam!" Miles said, corralling Harry as soon as he stepped off the stage. "Awesome show, as always! I need you for a few minutes, mate."

"Does it have to be now, Miles?" Harry said, trying to make his way backstage, his eyes scanning for a man with a spider tattoo.

"Kid, the owner wants to meet you," Miles announced. "So yeah, it's got to be now."

Despite the high he was experiencing, Harry knew how important this was. He'd been trying to surreptitiously find out who the owner of this place was since he'd come here. And now to have the opportunity to meet him – well, now he'd definitely have something to tell Snape, wouldn't he?

"All right, Miles. Where is he?"

"He's waiting for us in your dressing room."

##########

The crowd around Snape numbered twenty-five or so and was very loud and boisterous, as though they were on some collective high. Snape knew what they were here for – he was here for the same thing. They all wanted to see Liam Stockbridge, the incredible young man who had just worked the crowd into a frenzy with his sensual performance behind the microphone. Snape marveled at the fact that Harry had this every night, this choice of beautiful young men and women, all ready to throw themselves at him, to offer him the gift of themselves. Harry had this, and still he'd come this morning and offered himself to Snape, a kind of reverse birthday present. What was going on in that boy's twisted brain that he couldn't see how old and washed up and unsuitable Snape was for someone like Harry.

Snape sighed, his frustration at Potter's behavior warring equally with his impatience – where was the boy?

##########

Harry nearly gave himself away when he walked into his dressing room and saw Lucius Malfoy looking back at him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Reward for Perseverance**

by Warviben

Chapter Two

**Summary**: After the death of Voldemort, both Harry Potter and Severus Snape join the Aurors. Harry struggles with a lack of respect from his co-workers, an attraction he cannot quash, and disappointment because the job he'd always wanted is not what he thought it would be. Snape struggles with Harry.

**Warnings:** This fic contains detailed descriptions of sexual encounters. Some of them are male-on-male. If any of this disturbs you, please hit the back button.

From Chapter One:

_The crowd around Snape numbered twenty-five or so and was very loud and boisterous, as though they were on some collective high. Snape knew what they were here for – he was here for the same thing. They all wanted to see Liam Stockbridge, the incredible young man who had just worked the crowd into a frenzy with his sensual performance behind the microphone. Snape marveled at the fact that Harry had this every night, this choice of beautiful young men and women, all ready to throw themselves at him, to offer him the gift of themselves. Harry had this, and still he'd come this morning and offered himself to Snape, a kind of reverse birthday present. What was going on in that boy's twisted brain that he couldn't see how old and washed up and unsuitable Snape was for someone like Harry._

_Snape sighed, his frustration at Potter's behavior warring equally with his impatience – where was the boy?_

_##########_

_Harry nearly gave himself away when he walked into his dressing room and saw Lucius Malfoy looking back at him. _

Harry gathered himself before any unfortunate words could come out of his mouth and looked back at Malfoy with as impersonal an expression as he could manage.

"Liam!" Miles gushed. "I want you to meet the man that makes this place possible. This is Lucerne Malfoi." He pronounced this the French way: Mal-fwa.

Harry extended his hand and Malfoy took it, cradling Harry's hand between both of his. "It is so very nice to meet you finally," Malfoy said, his eyes traveling over Harry's body, caressing him here, stroking him there, lingering especially long on Harry's groin. By the time Malfoy's eyes returned to lock onto Harry's, Harry felt like he either needed a shower or a cigarette. Despite the post-performance high his body was experiencing, this man did nothing for him, and he extracted his hand as soon as he could decently do so.

"Likewise," Harry said. "Did you enjoy the show?"

"Oh, very much," Malfoy assured him. "You are exquisite."

Harry was getting uncomfortable at the way Malfoy continued to look at him. "I'm glad to hear that, sir."

"Oh, please. You must call me Lucerne. I hope that we will become great friends, Liam."

"That'd be great. Perhaps we could have lunch some time." Harry knew that he should cultivate a friendship with this man – it was important to the operation they were running here. But his body was demanding that he do something to satisfy it soon, and he still had to meet with Snape. Oh Christ! Snape! He hoped the man's glamour was strong. Malfoy hadn't even tried to disguise his appearance, apparently figuring that no one in a Muggle club like this would ever recognize him. But if Malfoy knew that Snape was here – that could blow this whole thing. It would probably be a good idea to get Malfoy out of here before Snape came barging in demanding to know why Harry was keeping him waiting. "I don't mean to rush you out, Mr. Malfoi" (Harry was careful of his pronunciation), but I have a sort of ritual post-show, and I . . ."

"Oh, I'll only be a moment, I assure you, Liam," Malfoy said, his voice smooth and oily. "Perhaps, Miles, you might get us something to drink? Liam must be thirsty after that . . . performance."

"Oh! Of course. What was I thinking? I haven't got you your beer yet, Liam. And you, sir? What can I get for you?"

"Some of that Scotch you keep in the back, if you would."

"Of course. I'll be right back."

After Miles left, Malfoy stepped closer to Harry and ran a finger down his cheek. "You are a very attractive young man, Liam." He traced his finger now up to Harry's earring and flicked it back and forth. "I think you and I could do wonderful things to each other. You are young, and there are so many things I could teach you."

Harry stepped back away from Malfoy and fought to control the nausea in his stomach. The semi-erection he always left the stage with was completely gone now. "Wow. Thanks. Really. But I . . . um . . . I just . . . I'm not . . . I'm not interested. Sorry."

"That's all right," Malfoy purred. "I can be very convincing. It doesn't have to be tonight. We'll have time to get to know each other. Perhaps you'll change your mind."

"Perhaps," Harry allowed, hoping to not alienate Malfoy completely, hoping it wasn't already too late. Malfoy didn't seem disturbed by the rejection. In fact, he acted as though he hadn't really heard it. Harry thought Malfoy probably didn't hear a lot of rejection.

Malfoy removed something from his coat pocket and handed it to Harry. Harry opened his hand to find a blue bill resting in his palm. "Go on. On the house," Malfoy urged.

Harry closed his hand around the pill. "No, thank you, sir. I can't . . . you see, after a performance, I have this natural high, and I fear anything I take will blow my mind permanently. So thank you, but no." He handed the pill back.

"All right," Malfoy conceded. "Maybe another time."

Miles returned now, bearing drinks in his hand. Malfoy removed both drinks from the man and handed Harry the glass containing his customary beer.

"It was very nice meeting you, sir," Harry said, hoping that Malfoy would take that as the dismissal it was meant to be. He tipped his mug up and drained off half the beer.

Malfoy watched Harry's throat as it worked to swallow down the beer. "And you, Liam. I hope we see each other again very soon."

Harry drank off the rest of his beer, grateful that this little meeting was finally coming to an end. His head began to feel a little as though it might float away, and he sat suddenly on the bed as Miles led Malfoy to the door.

His vision wavered so that the two men at the door went out of focus, as though he'd left his glasses off. He tried to reach up, to make sure that his glasses hadn't fallen off, but his limbs were floppy and refused to listen to his commands, and he ended up striking himself in the chin.

_Drugged_. He just had time to form the word in his mind before his eyes rolled back up in his head and he knew no more.

##########

Snape had had enough. The others who had been waiting here with him had drifted away, one by one, when "Liam Stockbridge" didn't appear. Something didn't feel right here. Potter had known he was going to be here to meet with him, to obtain his report. He'd never missed a meeting with Riggs in all the weeks he'd been here. He'd seen Potter leave the stage and head in this general direction. He was sure he'd waited in the right place, given the numerous other people who were here waiting for the same person Snape was. Yet Potter had not appeared.

Snape made a sudden decision. He was done waiting. Striding down the hall toward the back of the building, he started opening doors.

In the first room he looked into, he saw a very strange-looking man lying on the bed, eyes closed but obviously not sleeping given the contortions of his body. The second door led to a broom closet.

Behind the third door, he found Potter. Lying naked and in a very uncomfortable-looking position. His chest was on the bed, his knees curled beneath him, his neck canted at an awkward angle. Snape's first thought was that the damned prat had made him wait while he had an assignation with an admirer, and then had fallen asleep. He marched into the room and closed the door firmly, loudly, hoping to startle Potter awake. "Potter!"

Potter did startle, his skin seeming to jump, but he didn't change position, and his eyes never opened. Something was decidedly off here.

"Potter," Snape said again, this time his tone conveying concern and not anger. He approached the bed.

When he reached Potter, he reached out a hand and touched the boy's shoulder, shaking him gently. "Potter, wake up!"

Potter mumbled incoherently, but he didn't wake, and his breathing sounded labored, perhaps due to the angle of his neck. Before moving him, Snape withdrew his wand and traced it over Harry's body, running a general medical diagnostic, including an analysis of the contents of Potter's blood stream, urine, and his stomach. The results were astonishing:

no food – Potter apparently hadn't eaten for hours

a small amount of alcohol, the equivalent of one beer

a small but effective amount of flunitrazepam

valerian mushroom

There were other things listed, but Snape was unable to go any further. Potter had been dosed with Rohypnol, more popularly known as the date rape drug, and Blue Dragon. The two drugs were likely warring in his system: the sedative effect of the Rohypnol versus the hallucinatory effects of the Blue Dragon. It was no wonder Potter was unconscious.

Snape forced himself to return to the medical scan results. He skimmed down through the remaining ingredients of the Blue Dragon until he got to the physical results. Potter had no injuries other than some slight bruising and scraping, mostly in the anal area. Dear God – the evidence was overwhelming. Potter had been raped here. He'd been given a drug that seemed to have no other purpose than to incapacitate a victim to ensure acquiescence, and then someone had had sex with him. That was rape.

What to do now? Snape ran through the options in his mind. He probably should take Potter to St. Mungo's – who knew how the two drugs coursing through Potter's system would interact with each other?

Potter rasped out a shaky breath on the bed, and Snape was finally jolted into action. He covered Potter, then gently rolled him onto his side. Once his neck straightened, Harry's breathing evened out, and Snape breathed his own sigh of relief.

He could not risk taking Potter to St. Mungo's. At a minimum, it would blow the operation they had going here. And a record would be created of just what had happened to Harry here tonight, and he guessed that the boy would like to avoid that if he could. Snape hoisted Harry into a sitting position, put an arm around the boy's shoulders, and apparated them both out of there.

##########

While Harry was still unconscious, Snape went to work. He'd handled enough sexual assaults to know the protocol. Not expecting to find anything, because Harry had been under the sedative effects of Rohypnol at the time of the attack, Snape nevertheless scraped underneath each of Harry's fingernails, looking for trace evidence of his attacker. He checked the young man's body over, but there were no scratches or bruises evident. There was, however, dried semen on the back of his thighs, and Snape scraped it off into an evidence collection tube. It seemed obvious to Snape, given the presence of Rohypnol and the evidence of sexual intercourse, that Potter had been raped. At least they had evidence that could prove the identity of the attacker, were they able to locate a suspect.

What concerned Snape more now was the effect of the mixing of Rohypnol and Blue Dragon in the boy's system. It was very unlikely that the two drugs had ever been combined. So far, it appeared as though the boy was suffering only from the effects of the sedative. Just after this thought had completed in his mind, Harry began to fidget on the bed, his arms and legs twitching. When he moaned, Snape put away his evidence kit and approached the boy. "Potter? Potter, can you hear me?"

Harry moaned again and became more agitated. "Dad? Wow, Dad. It's been a really long time."

"Potter!" Snape said, shaking Potter's shoulder gently. "I am not your father. It is I, Severus Snape. Can you hear me?"

Harry's eyes popped open, but he said, "'Course I can, Dad. Is Mum with you? Oh, there she is! Hello, Mum." Tears appeared in the wide green eyes now. "Why'd you guys have to go away? I've missed you."

Snape shook Potter harder. "Potter! Wake up!" Which was a stupid thing to say given that the boy's eyes were wide open. This must be the Blue Dragon, finally forcing the Rohypnol out.

The tears fell from Harry's eyes at the jarring. "Are you going to stay this time? Please?" he begged. "I don't want you to go away again. I need you." Harry gripped Snape's hand and squeezed it tightly. "Please."

Snape thought his own tears might begin if he didn't get the boy out of his current hallucination, and soon.

"I am not your father, Potter. Your father has been gone for a very long time."

"You're going?" Harry asked, heartbroken. He sat up in the bed. "Can I have a hug before you go?"

Snape nearly pulled away, but he wanted this over, so he put his arms around the boy, squeezed quickly and tried to pull away. Harry was having none of it, though. He held on tightly for a very long time, filling his soul with affection he'd not remembered ever receiving from his father. Finally, Harry dropped his arms to the bed and his head to Snape's shoulder and sniffled there quietly.

"All right," Snape said, his voice and hands shaking. He put Harry away gently and lay him back on the bed.

Harry inhaled deeply and closed his eyes.

"Will you lie still for a moment?" Snape asked, drawing his wand and running the diagnostic scan again. Good. No more trace of Rohypnol. Only the Blue Dragon was coursing through his system. "Stay here," Snape ordered.

Snape left the room and returned moments later with a small bottle containing an opaque yellow potion. He sat on the edge of the bed with it. "Potter, this is an antidote I've been working on ever since this drug has come to our attention. I haven't been able to test it, but I believe it will counter the effects of the valerian root. Because it is untested, I am somewhat reluctant to give it to you, but I am quite confident it will do as intended."

"'Kay," Harry said happily, grinning.

"You'll need to sit up."

Harry sat up and opened his eyes. They immediately widened in horror. "Snape!" he whispered, grasping Snape's arm tightly. "Snape!"

"What, Potter? What is it?"

"Bugs!" Harry whispered, horrified. "Look at the bugs!"

Snape whipped his head around in the direction Potter was looking. "What bugs?"

"There!" Harry said, pointing a shaking hand. "They're right there!"

Snape looked again in the direction of the pointing finger. All he saw was a nail stuck in the wall, put there, he presumed, by the previous tenant.

"It's only a nail."

"L-l-look at them all! There must be a hundred! Do something!"

Snape jumped up and yanked the nail out of the wall.

"NO!" Harry wailed. "You made the hole bigger! Now there's a million! Oh God! They're crawling on me! Get them off!" Harry was writhing all over the bed, slapping at his skin.

"Potter! Stop! There are no bugs! Oh for Merlin's – "

Snape popped the top off the potions bottle, then threw an arm over the panicking naked boy, holding him down on the bed. He poured the contents of the bottle into Potter's screaming mouth, losing only a small amount to the boy's thrashing. Snape closed the boy's gaping mouth so he'd have no choice but to swallow.

Snape held him down until the boy stopped moving about and lay shivering and whimpering beneath him. Only then did Snape let him up. Thankfully, the potion did exactly what Snape hoped it would, and it did it quickly. Within thirty seconds, Harry had stopped moving, his eyes were closed, and he appeared to be soundly sleeping. A quick scan confirmed that Potter was sleeping, not comatose, and finally Snape's own breathing returned to normal.

##########

Harry awoke slowly, groggy from the drugs that had abused his system not so long ago. He lay quietly, not sure exactly where he was, and until he figured that out, he had no intention of drawing attention to himself. He knew he wasn't in his own bed at home, and he knew he wasn't in the bed in his dressing room. From what his limited vision told him, he was currently in a room he'd never seen before in a bed he'd never used before. He was about to sit up and begin to look around for his glasses when they were pressed into his hand.

Nervous now that he was aware that someone else was in the room with him, Harry sat up quickly and slid his glasses into place. Snape. It was Snape here with him. That was strange. Harry stared at the man, still not sure where he was or what he was doing here with the object of his desires, but he suddenly became very aware that he was naked. In a bed. In a room with Snape. Sweet Merlin. Did he and Snape – ? He couldn't remember!

The two men stared at each other for a time. Finally, Harry couldn't stand it any more. "Where am I?" he asked.

"You are in my bedroom."

Harry lifted the covers and looked beneath them, to confirm that he'd felt naked skin rubbing against the sheets. Yup. Birthday suit. He looked hopefully up at Snape. "Did we . . .?"

Snape blushed a rather adorable shade of pink. "No, Potter. We did not."

Harry slumped in relief. If he'd had sex with Snape and couldn't remember it, he would have hated himself forever.

"So what's going on? What am I doing in your bed starkers?"

Snape sighed. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Harry looked at Snape with alarm now. Obviously, something had happened to him, something that had caused Snape to bring Harry to his home, something Snape would have avoided at all costs, Harry was sure. "I don't know! When? What's happened to me?"

"Potter," Snape growled. "Take a breath! Panicking will not assist us in this situation. Think carefully, and tell me the last thing you remember."

Harry took a deep breath and forced himself to relax a little. He searched his memory, which seemed to consist of nothing but gaping holes. Had he been obliviated? He felt his breathing start to quicken in fright again and forced himself to look at Snape to remain calm. "I don't know. I remember having breakfast yesterday morning. Yesterday was Thursday, right?" Maybe he'd been unconscious for days!

"Yes, yesterday was Thursday. You remember eating breakfast. What time was that?"

"Oh, I don't know. I usually get up around noon." Harry ignored Snape's look of disgust at that news – he stayed up all hours of the night, for God's sake. "I ate breakfast. I remember going to the club. I got dressed. And I think I did the show. I think. Were you there?"

"I was there," Snape confirmed. "Do you remember anything after that?"

Harry tried to force his memory to go further, to take him to what happened after the show, but there was just nothing. "No. Nothing. What happened?"

"I waited for you, beside the stage as directed, but you never came out. After approximately thirty minutes of waiting, I went in search of you. I found you in your dressing room."

"And?" Harry prompted when Snape paused.

"And I found you in your bed. You were unconscious. And you were . . . not clothed."

Harry sat for a moment, taking this in. He'd somehow gotten from the stage, to his dressing room, taken off his clothes, and gotten into bed. He remembered none of this. What else could he not remember? He looked at Snape nervously. There was more, he could tell there was more. "What else?"

"Perhaps we should wait a bit to go over this."

"Why? Why can't you tell me now?"

"You have been drugged, Potter. Perhaps we should wait until you have recovered from the effects of both the drugs you ingested."

"Drugged?" Harry repeated. "But I don't take drugs. I would never take drugs! You believe me, right? Please, tell me you believe me!" It was very important to Harry, both professionally and personally, that Snape believe he didn't do drugs.

"I believe you, Potter. I believe you were administered these drugs without your knowledge. Do you remember if you had anything to drink after the show?" Snape knew from his scans that Potter had had no food in his stomach, so the drugs had not been introduced in anything the boy had eaten.

"I can't remember, but Miles always brings me a beer after the show. Do you think the drugs were in the beer?"

"It's quite likely," Snape conceded. "At least, one of them."

Harry's head was reeling. "So, wait. Did Miles drug me? Or did someone else put the drug in there after Miles left? Did you see anyone when you were there?"

"No. There were too many people milling about to ascertain who went where. At the time, I didn't know where your dressing room was even."

"Hold on. You said 'at least one of them.' I was drugged with more than one drug?"

"Yes. When I brought you here, I ran a scan. At that time, you had two drugs in your system."

When Snape hesitated, Harry guessed. "Blue Dragon."

"Yes. That was one of them."

"And the other?" Why was Snape so reluctant to say it?

"The other was flunitrazepam."

Well, that told him nothing. "Let's pretend they didn't offer chemistry at Hogwarts. What exactly is flunitrepam?"

"Flunitrazepam," Snape corrected automatically. "It's more commonly known as Rohypnol."

Harry recognized that, but he waited for Snape to go on.

"It is known on the street as . . . the date rape drug."

Harry let that lay there on the coverlet for a moment before he got up the nerve to pick it up. "Was I?" he asked, his voice a tortured whisper. "Was I raped?"

"It would be difficult to know for sure," Snape said, unable to look at the boy who was growing rapidly distraught. "The drug makes resistence to assault impossible and minimizes the typical physical signs of an attack of that nature."

"Severus," Harry said, his voice shaky but still firm. "Was I raped?"

Snape ignored the boy's use of his first name. "I did find evidence of . . . sexual activity," he admitted.

"So while I was unconscious, after being given a powerful sedative, someone . . . someone had sex with me. That sounds like rape to me. Doesn't it to you?"

"It does," Snape admitted. "If it's of any consolation, I collected evidence that will prove or disprove the guilt of a suspect, if we are able to identify one."

It wasn't any consolation, and Harry slumped back against the pillow and closed his eyes, unable to really process what he'd apparently been through. Was it acceptable to feel violated by something you couldn't even remember? Even knowing what had happened, Harry was unable to recall anything from the night before after the last break of the set. He forced everything from his mind but last night, and the events that led to him being discovered naked in bed by Severus Snape. When he tried really hard, tiny bits flitted back to him: a particularly painful high five from Skinny after the show, a woman in a tight-fitting red dress waiting by the bar, Lucius Malfoy, a little blue pill . . .

Harry's eyes flew open, and he sat up quickly. Lucius Malfoy! Lucius Malfoy had been there last night?!

"What is it?" Snape asked. "Have you remembered something?"

"Malfoy," Harry said, trying harder to follow that one little glimmer of memory to something more concrete. Nothing came.

"Draco?"

"No, Lucius. He was there."

Snape sat forward. This was important. "He was there?"

"No. Yes. I don't know. I can't really remember. I just know that . . . Malfoy's got something to do with something."

Snape sat back, disappointed. "That is not helpful."

"Well, excuse me all to hell! So sorry I was drugged out of my mind and I can't remember every little detail of what happened to me last night!"

"I know," Snape said soothingly. "I am not blaming you. I simply meant that given the drug you ingested, which has a known side effect of distorting or obliterating memory, and given your known animosity toward the Malfoys, your memory now of having seen Lucius in some capacity at some point during the night is not going to hold any weight."

"You don't believe me!" Harry accused.

"It doesn't matter whether _I_ believe you," Snape pointed out.

"It matters to me," Harry argued.

Snape would not lie to Potter, even now. He did _not_ believe that Harry's memory of Lucius Malfoy was anything other than an unconscious attempt by someone who thought Malfoy deserved punishment for many crimes long past to make him pay for _something_ now.

When Snape didn't answer at all, Harry had his answer.

"Fine," he spit. "Don't believe me!" He threw the covers aside, heedless of the fact that he was still naked, and jumped out of bed. "I'll get out of your hair. I'm sorry to have bothered you."

"Where are you going?"

"Home. Where are my clothes?"

"I didn't bring them. I brought you." That sounded stupid, even to himself.

"Whatever. I don't need clothes to apparate. Thanks again for all your _help_."

"Potter, don't be foolish. You don't know how the drugs you've taken might affect you. Not to mention the untested antidote I gave you."

"_You _drugged me, too?!" Harry asked, appalled.

Snape was trying desperately to keep his eyes south of Harry's shoulders. The boy seemed to care not a whit that all of himself was on display. "I had developed an antidote to Blue Dragon. I've been working on it for weeks. I haven't had the opportunity to test it yet, though."

"So you thought while you had me here, helpless, you'd just try it out?"

"You were hallucinating. It seemed worth the risk."

"And was it?" Harry challenged.

"I do not know if it will help with the addictive qualities of the drug. It calmed the hallucinations immediately. You were very . . . distressed."

Great. This just kept getting better and better. What had he hallucinated while in the presence of the man he'd desired for a very long time? "Well, at least something positive has come out of this. Severus Snape, potions master extraordinaire, has come to the rescue of Harry Potter once again. The world will worship at your feet. Let me be the first to congratulate you."

"I don't want your congratulations. I want you to get back into the bed."

"Care to join me?" Harry asked recklessly.

"No."

"No, of course not. You didn't want me before. You certainly don't want me now that I'm damaged goods. Thanks for everything," Harry said, his voice softening. "I really do mean that. But I need to go now."

"Potter . . ." Snape was going to insist that Potter stay, but he could see that the boy needed to get away, that his dignity was shattered and he needed to go some place familiar and safe to lick his wounds. "You are not damaged goods."

Harry stared at Snape for a moment before apparating away, leaving Snape alone in his bedroom. Snape picked up the vial of semen he'd taken off Harry earlier tonight. First thing tomorrow, he was going to run it against Lucius Malfoy. Not because he believed that Lucius Malfoy had been at the Pissing Oyster last night and raped Harry, but because he knew the boy needed to know that Lucius Malfoy had not violated him in that way.

##########

Harry slept in the comfort of his own bed for several more hours after returning home. When he woke up, he got out of bed and took a long, hot shower. He emerged feeling not much cleaner than when he'd gone in. He tried to eat something, but he felt edgy, unable to settle, like he had ants crawling under his skin. He paced for a time around his flat, trying to figure out what was wrong, why he felt like his body no longer fit in his skin, what it was he seemed to be missing that he needed so desperately. He had yet to figure it out when a knock sounded on his door.

Wondering who would be at his door in the middle of the afternoon, Harry peered through his peephole. Snape. Snape was standing in the hallway, glaring back at him imperiously, his large nose seeming even larger in the distorted glass.

Harry opened the door and looked at Snape, waiting for the man to speak. He was still a little miffed at the man, for not believing him about Lucius Malfoy, for testing unknown drugs on him, and while one part of him was thrilled that the man was here, he tamped that down and glared at Snape.

"Potter. May I come in, or would you like do this in the hallway?"

"Do what?"

Snape huffed in frustration, his little supply of patience already worn. Without waiting for an invitation, he pushed past Harry into his flat.

Snape was impressed by the boy's living quarters. Harry had purchased a warehouse, then converted the empty space into flats. He'd kept this one, the penthouse, as it were, at the top of the building. He'd roughed out an additional five flats in the remaining space, then leased them, one by one, already netting a nifty return on his investment. Because he had no interest in being a landlord, he'd hired an older couple to handle tenant issues and rent, and he'd lived here happily and quietly ever since.

The flat he had carved out for himself out of the entire top story of the building retained the largeness of space that the original warehouse had contained. There was really only one room here, broken up by cleverly positioned panels and furniture to create separate spaces for a kitchen, a dining area, a library, a bedroom with a hot tub, and television area with floor to ceiling windows with a fabulous view of the west end of the city. Sliding glass doors led to an open-air balcony/garden that Harry had tended professionally by the same man who lived on premises to manage the building. The man's wife cleaned Harry's flat.

It was a beautiful home, and was likely worth ten times what Harry had invested in it, but he didn't care about that. It was plenty spacious enough for him, it was private and quiet (enhanced by noise-filtering charms), and Harry loved it here.

"You have a beautiful home," Snape said, and he meant it. He was impressed and a little intimidated by the display of toned-down wealth that this flat seemed to represent, although he knew Harry hadn't meant for it to be ostentatious in any way. That just wasn't the young man's style.

"Thank you," Harry said softly, thawing a little.

"Ah," Snape said, "I see you made good on that threat to get a cat."

A small grey feline appeared from the bedroom area of the flat as soon as Snape had entered. It stalked toward Snape now and sniffed his shoes. Harry waited. Boris didn't like many people. If someone passed the sniff test, they were in. Boris finished his nasal inspection, then wound his lithe body around Snape's legs. If Snape hadn't passed, Boris would have hiked his tail high in the air and stalked away haughtily.

"He likes you," Harry noted.

Snape bent down and scooped the cat up into his large hands and began stroking the cat's ears. Boris purred loudly and happily.

Harry scowled at Boris now, feeling a little betrayed by this instant liking. "Did you come here for a reason?"

"Yes," Snape admitted. "I came to see how you were. The antidote I've created worked very well on the hallucinations, but there is nothing in it to counter the addictive effects of the drug."

"I'm fine."

"No ill effects? No cravings?"

Harry scratched the skin on his arm. This explained how he'd been feeling all morning – he was hooked on Blue Dragon. But he couldn't tell Snape – if he did, the man would yank him off his assignment so fast his head would spin.

"Nothing I can't handle," he said, not willing to outright lie to the man.

Snape dumped the cat onto the floor. "Tell me exactly what you are feeling."

Harry sighed. He had no choice now. "I feel . . . itchy and nervous, like there's something I need, but I don't know what it is."

"I was afraid of this. You are addicted."

"No, I'm not," Harry argued. "I don't have an overwhelming urge to take more of this drug. I can handle this."

"It is my opinion that we should end this undercover assignment immediately."

"No!" Harry protested immediately. "No, you can't do that! Not now! Not after . . ."

"After what? After you were attacked?" Snape challenged. "That alone is reason enough to pull you out. Someone has attacked you, Harry! You were r– "

"Don't say it!" Harry ordered. "Don't. I need to stay where I am. I'm close to something, I know I am."

"How do you know that the attack wasn't the result of your identity being discovered?"

"How do you know that it was?" Harry countered. "Look, you have no idea what goes on in places like that. There's drugs everywhere, more than just Blue Dragon and rufies. There's meaningless sex, sometimes very public meaningless sex. Sexual assault doesn't have to be tied to anything other than some creep's perverted desire to dominate someone. I hate to say it happens all the time, but I wouldn't be surprised to learn that it happens all the time. I don't think it has anything to do with my undercover assignment."

"Yesterday, you were convinced Lucius Malfoy was involved."

"I still am," Harry said firmly.

"Then how can you say that what happened to you has nothing to do with your being undercover?"

"I didn't say that it was Malfoy that attacked me. I only know that he was there."

"It wasn't."

"Huh?"

"It wasn't Malfoy that attacked you. I ran the sample I collected from you against his DNA. It was not a match."

"Oh," Harry said, relieved on one level that the man he so despised had not touched him in that way, was now left with a certainty over who _had_ touched him. He was left really with only one other suspect: Miles.

"I also ran the sample through the wizard database," Snape continued. "No matches. Which does not prove that your attacker was not a wizard, only that he is not an employee of the Ministry or in the law enforcement system."

"Okay. Well, good to know I guess. All the more reason for me to stay then, right, since that kind of proves that it had nothing to do with the assignment."

"You're still addicted to an illegal substance."

"I can handle that!" Harry insisted.

"How?"

"I don't know!" Harry was forced to admit. "I'll just get through it . . . one day at a time. I think your antidote must have dulled it somewhat, because I've seen people addicted to this shite, and they're much worse off than I am. I can handle this, Severus. I can," he said earnestly.

Since when did the whelp have permission to use his first name? "This is a very bad idea," Snape said. He held up a hand when Harry would protest further. "But if you insist on putting yourself further in harm's way, there are some precautions we can take. A calming draught will likely assist in taking the edge off the remaining symptoms. I assume that if you are able to withstand the cravings for a period of time, eventually the drug will lose its hold on you. And you will keep on hand a vial of the antidote, in the event you are dosed by someone else again." Or, Snape thought but did not say, you are unable to fight the cravings. "But you realize, Potter, that you will have to appear to be addicted to the drug, do you not? Whoever dosed you is going to expect it."

Harry nodded. He hadn't thought of that, but it certainly made sense. That was all right. He could fake an addiction. He could incorporate that into this new lifestyle he'd created. "Okay. Look, I've got to get going. I'm usually at the club by now. So unless there's something else . . ."

"No. That is everything. You will not reconsider?"

"No. I have to do this. You understand, right?"

Snape did, and he nodded. "All right. But I am going to come to the show tonight, and we will meet afterward, as we were supposed to do last night." If the fool insisted on going through with this, the least Snape could do was be available to Harry tonight to help him deal with whatever symptoms he still experienced. "Unless you'd prefer I not."

"No," Harry said, grateful for the offer. "It would be good not to have to . . . I would appreciate that."

"I will wear a different glamour. I will let you know once I've decided what I will look like."

"Don't bother," Harry said. "I'd know it was you no matter what disguise you were wearing."

"I will see you tonight, then," Snape promised.

##########

Harry walked slowly into his dressing room and stopped, staring at the bed. That's where it had happened. That's where someone had taken advantage of him, after ensuring that he was not able to fight back. Harry had thought about little else over the past few hours, and he was convinced that it had to have been Miles that attacked him. To Harry's mind, Miles was the only one who had access, although the part of him that was an auror-trained investigator tried to point out that he remembered nothing of substance from that evening, and Miles could very well have left him safe and sound in his dressing room. But if that were the case, wouldn't Harry have gone out to retrieve Snape from the crowd of admirers? He couldn't talk himself out of the logical conclusion that Miles had the means. But Miles had never made it obvious that he held any sort of attraction for Harry, so Harry was at a loss as to _why_ Miles would have done this.

Harry was giving himself a headache, going over all this terrain again, and he gave himself a mental shake. If he didn't get himself back into his role, he was going to make a mistake, and he might as well pull himself out of this assignment now. He took a large, bracing breath and closed the door behind him. He needed to get dressed.

He'd put tonight's costume on and was making up his face when someone knocked at the door and entered without waiting for an invitation to come in. It was Miles.

"Hey, kid!" he said brightly. "Where've you been? You were a little late today."

"I had some stuff to take care of," Harry said, trying to quiet the butterflies in his stomach. "I don't have to be here until show time anyway," he pointed out.

"True, true," Miles agreed, smiling broadly. "Come and go as you will. Fine by me. How you feeling?"

"I feel fine. Why?" Harry asked defensively.

"Just asking, kid. Just asking." He slid his hand over toward Harry, and Harry couldn't stop himself from flinching away. But Miles only dropped a single blue tablet onto the table. "Thought you might be wanting that right about now."

Harry stared at the pill.

"Gift from the boss," Miles continued.

Harry looked up at him. "The boss?"

"Yeah. Don't you remember? Last night?"

"Last night is a little hazy," Harry admitted.

Miles chuckled. "I'm not surprised. Trust me, though, you had a great time."

Harry thought he was going to be sick. He uncapped the water bottle that he'd brought with him and took a long drink. "I'll save it for later. Hey, I'll have someone with me later – can you get me another?"

"Sure, kid, sure," Miles said, sounding disappointed. "Just so you understand – last night – last night was gratis. Here on out, there'll be the usual charges."

Was he talking about the drugs, or the unwanted sex? "That's no problem. Just take it out of my pay. Now if you don't mind, I've got to finished getting dressed."

"Oh go ahead. That won't bother me."

"I'd like to be alone, if you don't mind," Harry said forcefully, gritting his teeth to keep from hexing the man where he stood.

"Oh. All right. No problem. Have a great show. I'll see you after."

##########

Harry knew that his performance tonight had been his worst so far. Even opening night, when he'd been green and nervous, had been better. But he couldn't find it in himself to put in the usual effort. He got through the set, hoping no one would notice, and went back after the show very relieved that it was over.

His eyes immediately latched onto the glamoured Snape, and he motioned him over with a wave just as Miles approached with his usual post-performance beer. "Thanks, Miles," Harry said. "What about the other thing?"

"Oh," he said, searching his pockets. "Here you go." He handed Harry the pill.

"Thanks," Harry said. He reached out and took Snape's hand and pulled him into his dressing room. He closed the door firmly, threw the lock, and drew his wand to add a magical lock and silencing charm.

"Take that glamour off, please," he requested curtly. He needed to see Snape, to know that he was safe now.

Snape dropped his glamour. "Are you all right? You seem a little . . . off."

"I'm fine," Harry said. He marched into the bathroom and poured the beer down the drain. When he came back out, he handed both blue pills to Snape. "Take these. Do what you will with them."

Snape pocketed them. Having them would help in his work toward improving the antidote.

"Have you noticed any symptoms of addiction?" he asked.

Harry was pacing the room, back and forth. "I don't know. I've never been addicted to anything, yeah?" Well, except Snape. The usual post-performance adrenalin surge was muted, likely due to his overall mood, but Harry still felt some of the arousal that usually followed a show. It was heightened by an edginess that was unusual, a craving for something. He didn't want to admit this to Snape, though, for fear the other man would use this as an excuse to take him off this assignment.

"Your pacing might be indicative of something," Snape noted.

"No. You don't understand," Harry said, trying to burn off the excess energy by pacing. "This is normal."

"Normal? You pace like a caged lion after every performance?"

"No, I usually fuck somebody," Harry said bluntly.

Snape felt his face coloring.

Harry noticed. "Yeah. I tried to warn you."

"So every night, you choose someone from the gathered throng and you bring them back and here and you . . ."

"Fuck them, yeah."

"And you do this why?"

"It's hard to explain. There's this . . . energy that builds up during the show. It's like inside me, but my skin can't hold it. And sex releases it."

"So what happens if you don't . . . release this energy?"

"Dunno. I've always had an outlet for it."

"Do you feel all right?"

"I feel fine," Harry lied. "I'll be good in a bit. Just give it time."

"Potter, if you need to step into the loo to . . . assist with the . . . energy release, please do not let my presence stop you."

"Oh Jesus," Harry moaned. Did Snape think talking about masturbation was going to help at all? He felt himself growing hard at the thought of touching himself in the loo while Snape was in the adjoining room.

"Maybe I should just . . . go and change my clothes," he suggested.

"That is a fine suggestion," Snape agreed. He'd be quite relieved if Potter stopped prancing around in front of him dressed in trousers that looked as though they would have to be peeled off like a second skin.

Harry grabbed up the dressing gown he kept here and retreated to the bathroom. He shucked out of his trousers in three seconds and had himself in hand quickly. He was naked, naked with Snape. Harry pulled, his grip tighter, his pace faster. This wasn't as satisfying as having a willing body to sink into, but it would be enough, he knew, to rid his body of the excess energy coursing through it.

He smeared the copious amount of pre-come he'd already generated over the end of his reddened cock, using it as a lubricant. He was close, so close. He thought of Snape in the next room, imagined him taking down his trousers as he thought about what Harry was doing in here. Snape's prick was glorious, Harry just knew it was, and he felt his balls drawing up already. He stepped to the loo and released his pent-up energy into the bowl. When he finished, his knees were shaking. He washed his hands, threw on his robe, and rejoined Snape, determined not to be embarrassed.

"Better," Harry announced cheerfully.

Snape grimaced painfully. He had a problem of his own now.

Harry threw himself onto the bed. "Why don't you have a seat? It's going to be twenty minutes or so before you can go. If we want to keep up appearances."

Snape sat uncomfortably in the chair at Harry's make-up table and prepared to wait for his time here to expire.

Before leaving the club that night, Harry asked Miles for two more pills. He was supposed to be addicted to the foul substance, and no one who'd taken Blue Dragon could possibly go two days without a fix, so he'd asked Miles for enough to get him through his two days off. It was either that or come back in tomorrow, and Harry needed his distance from this place.

##########

The following day was Sunday, and Harry was very glad that he didn't have to pretend that all was well again for a couple of days. He spent Sunday and Monday in his flat, fighting what he knew now were cravings for Blue Dragon. He was jittery and jumped at every small noise, he couldn't focus on anything for more than thirty seconds, he couldn't stomach the thought of eating, he couldn't settle long enough to sleep. It was a miserable two days, spent totally alone, with only Boris for company. By Tuesday he'd begun to feel a little better and thought perhaps the Blue Dragon was finally working it's way out of his system.

He went in for scheduled rehearsal on Tuesday, but stayed only long enough to approach Miles for yet another pill. The man seemed to know what he wanted before he asked, and he had a little blue pill all ready. He offered Harry a beer, but Harry declined and left as quickly as he could.

##########

Harry was surprised to see Snape on Wednesday following the show, this time glamoured as a punky-looking early twenties sandy-haired man with several body piercings. Harry had recovered enough from his exposure to Blue Dragon and the personal attack that he was in the full throes of hormone-driven lust when he brought Snape back to his dressing room. He couldn't even make small talk before he secreted himself inside the loo. He had a feeling that just tossing off was not going to be enough tonight, and he wished with everything that he had that he could convince Snape to give him a go, just one. He'd even beg if he thought Snape might succumb.

Harry tossed off quickly in the loo, but he was still hard and aching in his hand after he'd finished. He needed more. He needed it again, and again. He needed it harder. He needed another body next to his, some willing flesh to drive into. Maybe he should get rid of Snape early. Maybe some of the other groupies were still here. He'd pick a bird this time, he thought. He hadn't had a woman in a while – he didn't want people to start thinking he was gay. He was whimpering in his need, he knew he was, but he couldn't be arsed to care.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock. "Potter, are you all right in there?" The boy had been in there an awfully long time to get himself off, and Snape couldn't help but wonder what he was doing. His concern was that the Blue Dragon still had a hold on him, that the boy had given in to the addiction and had taken the drug again. When he didn't receive an answer, he opened the door, which hadn't been locked.

They stared at each other, the young man and the older man, green eyes boring into black, Harry with his hard penis in his hand.

"Is there a problem?" Snape asked softly, his eyes traveling down Harry's form-fitting shimmering shirt, to the open trousers that had been pushed down only as far as necessary to release Potter's turgid prick. Harry's fist was closed around his erection, his hand moving languidly as his blood boiled at the way Snape was looking at him. "Are you unable to finish?"

"I did," Harry gasped out. "It wasn't enough. Help me!"

Snape had two choices. He could leave this room that was much too small, where he stood much too close to Potter, and leave the boy to work out his own solution to his dilemma. Or he could help. He had no intention of bedding this boy, either on top or on bottom, but he might just be able to do enough to relieve the worst of the tension. Putting aside all of the reasons to take option number one, Snape stepped closer and closed the door behind him.

"Come here," he growled, his voice low, husky with desire.

Harry wasted no time in complying. He closed the distance between them as quickly as he could with his trousers around his thighs. When he stood close enough that his cock was just touching the other man, he stopped and inhaled a shaky breath.

"Get those trousers off," Snape ordered.

Harry struggled in his haste, but soon stepped out of the trousers and stood, waiting for Snape's next command.

"Now the shirt."

The shirt came off quicker, and in mere seconds, he was naked before the man he'd desired for so long that he'd begun to give up hope.

"You need to come, do you, Potter?"

Harry whimpered. "Yes. I need to so badly. I tossed off in the loo, but I'm still hard. It's just not enough."

"What do you need?"

"I need . . ." Harry panted. "I need someone to fuck."

"I don't bottom, Potter," Snape said. "Ever."

Harry's whimper this time was one borne of frustration at the likelihood that he wasn't going to get what he wanted after all.

"I think I can still help," Snape promised, reaching out a single finger to trace around Harry's right nipple.

Harry closed his eyes and tipped his head back, swaying into the exquisitely pleasurable contact.

"Do you want my assistance, Mr. Potter?"

"Oh yes," Harry said, without opening his eyes. "Please. Anything you want. Just tell me, I'll do it."

"Come here," Snape said, opening his arms. Harry stepped into them and was surrounded instantly by Snape's arms. Snape placed one solid thigh between Harry's legs, pressing against his erection, and nudged the boy's arse in encouragement.

Harry didn't need to be told twice, and he began frotting himself desperately against Snape's leg. The man was wearing jeans, which not only looked incredible on his thin frame, but provided the perfect amount of friction that Harry needed. "So close," he moaned after only a few moments. "So close."

Snape curved both hands around the boy's arse and pulled him closer, increasing the friction. Snape knew his own cock was just as hard as Harry's, but he also knew that he had much better control over himself than this needy young man could ever even imagine. The thought of how inappropriate this was made Snape want this over with quickly, and he let go of one cheek to grasp hold of Potter's chin, tilt it up and devour the boy's mouth with his own. Harry whimpered in the back of his throat in surrender and began to shoot his seed all over Snape. It seemed to take forever for Harry to empty himself, and he had an incredible amount of semen to expend despite the fact that this was his second orgasm in ten minutes, but when it was over, he felt like he'd never be able to come again. He clung to Snape, panting, for some time, until he became aware that Snape's own desire remained unsatisfied.

He snuck a hand down and grabbed Snape through his jeans. Snape gasped and said, "Potter, no."

"Snape, yes," Harry argued. Before Snape could protest further, he undid the jeans enough to work his hand inside. Boxers. Snape wore boxers. This bit of information almost made Harry happier than the orgasm on the man's leg had, but he concentrated his efforts on finding Snape's cock in there. When he did, he grabbed on like he would never let go. A small amount of precome had dribbled its way out of Snape's cock, and Harry smeared it around with his thumb, making a mess, before he withdrew his hand enough to finish undoing Snape's jeans and pushing them and those wonderful boxers down around Snape's knees.

Oh, Snape was just as glorious as Harry had always known he would be. That tasty meat was just hanging there, and Harry couldn't stop himself from dropping to his knees, nudging those full-hanging fuzzy balls with his nose and then clamping his lips around Snape's cock and sucking for all he was worth.

Snape knew that he should pull away, make the boy stop, re-gather his dignity. This was so far beyond just trying to assist a co-worker through the worst of his crisis. But he found he lacked the will to pull away, and when his hands wove into Potter's hair, it wasn't to push him away but to draw him closer.

Snape's only sexual experience in the recent past was self-administered, and it wasn't long before he was pouring himself down Potter's throat. The moment he was able to collect himself, he gave Potter a hand to his feet, looked at the boy sincerely, and said, "This can't happen again."

Harry had been afraid he'd say that, but he wasn't surprised. "I know. Thank you."

"To say it was my pleasure would be totally inappropriate," Snape said. "Inappropriate, but true. Get dressed."

Snape left the bathroom, and Harry leaned against the sink, panting heavily, until he had his body back under control. He threw on his dressing gown and returned to his room to find Snape had completely put himself back together. If he hadn't been there, he'd never have known the man had engaged in a sexual liaison in the loo moments earlier.

"I will be going now," Snape announced.

"Wait," Harry requested.

"Potter, we are not going to discuss this."

"No. I get that," Harry assured him. "It's not that." He picked up a glass from his dressing table. "Would you take this with you? Miles drank out of this earlier. Can you check it against the . . . against what you took off me the other night? I think it might have been Miles."

Snape took the glass. "I will do that. Good night, Potter."

"Good night, sir. And thank you."

##########

"Was it him?" Harry asked without preamble as soon as he'd closed the door behind Snape, locked it, and cast a silencing spell.

Snape turned to face Harry, searching the boy for signs that his body was controlling him again today. He had promised himself that there would not be a repeat of last night's events, and it would be far easier to keep that promise to himself if Potter was in complete control of himself. He'd half expected Potter to jump him as soon as the door was closed, but the boy seemed totally focused on the matter at hand. He removed the ridiculous glamour he was wearing before answering.

"Yes. It was him."

Harry stilled, right down to his toes. He felt as though he could feel the blood pumping sluggishly through his veins. He thought Snape was talking – the man's lips were moving – but he seemed to be surrounded by his own personal silencing charm because no sound was making it into his ears. His vision was narrowing, the edges graying.

And then someone was shaking his shoulders, forcing him back to reality. "Potter! Keep yourself together!"

Harry swayed, and Snape caught him before he pitched forward. The strong hands gripping his shoulders helped anchor him, and Harry shook his head to shake the cobwebs out. "You're sure?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Snape nodded. "Forensics do not lie." He hesitantly let go of Potter's shoulders, ready to catch him again if needed, but Potter seemed able to stand on his own power now.

Harry drew in a deep breath, steadying himself, giving him the strength he'd need until he was alone and could process this fully. "Okay. Good to know."

"We need to revisit getting you out of here now."

"What? Why?"

"Why? Because you now know the identity of the man who attacked you. He is someone you must have daily contact with. There can be no positive outcome here."

"I can handle this," Harry assured him, somewhat desperately. "I've _been_ handling this. I've kind of suspected for a while that it was Miles."

"Suspecting and knowing are two different things, Potter. What do you plan on doing with this information?"

"I . . . I don't know. I suppose I can't kill him?" Harry looked up at him hopefully.

"No, Potter. You cannot kill him." Though Snape thought perhaps _he_ might.

"Going to the Muggle authorities is out of the question," Harry said. Evidence had been collected by magical law enforcement, and the Muggles would never trust evidence they hadn't processed for themselves.

"Yes," Snape agreed.

"So I'll just have to . . . just forget it, I guess. Hell, it's not like I can even remember it. It's got nothing to do with anything at this point. He's not going anywhere, and I've just got to work with him."

"Potter, that is unrealistic. This man attacked you. You cannot 'just forget it'." It does not work that way."

"It can if I want it to," Harry argued, sounding more than a little juvenile.

"Pretending it didn't happen is only going to delay dealing with it."

"There's nothing to deal with," Harry said obstinately.

Snape stepped closer to Harry, startling the younger man with the suddenness of the move. "You were raped," he said brutally.

"Don't . . ." Harry said, panic starting to creep in. "Don't do that. Why do you have to use that word? I hate that word." Tears filled Harry's eyes and he looked beseechingly up at Snape.

"I use that word because it is an appropriate description for what happened to you. You. Were. Raped. Pretending that it did not happen will not make it true. Nothing is going to change it. You cannot move on until you deal with it, and you cannot deal with it while you are in constant contact with your rapist."

Harry covered his ears. "Stop! Stop it! Please. I can't . . ."

Snape took hold of Harry's shoulders again. "Say it. Say you were raped," he demanded.

Harry shook his head wildly. He wanted to pull away from Snape, but the man's grip on his shoulders was too tight.

"If you cannot even say it, I will go back to the Ministry now, and I will tell Blades that you are done here, as of tonight," Snape threatened.

"Don't do that," Harry pleaded. "Please."

"Then say it."

Harry looked down at the threadbare brown carpet. He wanted to stay here, to finish the job he'd started. He wanted to prove that Lucius Malfoy was involved in this place somehow. He wanted his boss, and his co-workers, to respect him and stop dismissing him as some green kid. So he gathered every bit of courage he'd ever been accused of having, lifted his chin, and looked Snape right in the eyes. "I was raped," he said, clearly and firmly. "I was raped by Miles Osbourne. It was not my fault. He drugged me and took advantage of me."

"Good," Snape said, encouragingly. "Very good. Now pack your things. You are done here."

"What?! But you said . . .!"

"I lied. This is not a healthy environment for you. You have been attacked and dosed with a highly-addictive substance. If you intend to continue with your career as an auror, your mind and your body must be allowed to recover from these things. You cannot do that here, living this lifestyle."

"Why? Why did you make me say it?" Harry asked, despair etched into the lines on his face. "You can't do this to me. I've invested too much here."

"I would agree with that. Your long-term mental and physical health are far more important than any assignment," Snape said firmly. "We will find another way."

"Is there anything I can say to make you change your mind?" Harry asked, his eyes large and wet and breaking Snape's heart.

"Nothing. Do you require assistance with your things?"

Harry was about to say no when an excited knocking sounded on his door.

Both men in the room reacted instantly with their wands. Snape reapplied the glamour he'd been wearing when he walked in here, and Harry dismantled the wards he'd placed on the door. Knowing that whoever was there was likely to come barging in whether they were invited or not, Harry took one further step aimed at protecting his cover identity, hopeful that he would still have a cover identity after tonight: he stepped close to Snape, grabbed onto the man, and began to kiss him furiously. Thankfully, Snape played along, because seconds later, the door did open, and Miles Osborne entered the room, followed by a man Harry did not know.

"Whoa!" Miles said, pretending to shield his eyes at the sight. "Liam! Get a room!" He laughed at his own lame joke. "Sorry to interrupt, mate, but this is important."

Harry dragged his lips away from Snape's reluctantly, cast a quick glance up at the man to see how put out he was by Harry's behavior, then sighed and turned to face Miles.

"What is it, Miles?" he said, clearly annoyed. "I'm a little busy here."

"Can we get rid of your little piece here?" Miles asked, gesturing toward Snape.

"No. He stays. What is it that you want?"

"Liam, this is Duncan Crawley. He's a music producer. He was at the show tonight, and he wants to talk to you about potentially signing you to a contract." Miles was glowing with pride and happiness.

Harry reached over and shook the man's hand. He didn't bother introducing Snape: they hadn't gotten around to exchanging names when Snape was glamoured, and Harry's nightly fuck shouldn't be important enough to introduce in any event.

"Great to meet you, Liam. This is the second time I've caught your act. Great show, great show."

"Thanks."

"I want to sit down and talk with you. Do you have an agent?"

"No, no agent."

Miles piped up here. "Liam, I'd be happy to represent you . . ."

"No," Harry said, cutting him off.

"But, Liam," Miles whined. "You need someone, and haven't I always been good to you?"

Harry ignored him. "Mr. Crawley, if you have a card, I'll give you a call tomorrow, and we'll set something up."

Crawley removed a card from the breast pocket of his suit coat and handed it to Harry. "I look forward to hearing from you."

"It was nice meeting you," Harry said as he saw the man to the door.

Once he'd gone, Miles started in. "Liam, baby," he said, wheedling. "Why are you being so mean?"

"Miles, you should probably go."

"No," the man argued, his voice firming up. "You _owe _me. _I_ discovered you. If it weren't for me, you'd be nothing!"

Moving as fast as lightning, Harry had Miles up against the door, an arm across the man's throat. "I know what you did to me, Miles," Harry said, his voice low and threatening. "You're lucky you're still drawing breath. You're lucky I haven't cut your balls off and shoved them down your throat." He tightened the pressure on the chokehold, and Miles whimpered while he attempted to breath. Across the room, Snape was just beginning to wonder if he should intervene. "If I were you, I'd not be talking about what is owed to you. I owe you _nothing_. Now get out." Harry backed away from Miles, who stared at Harry with wide, fearful eyes, rubbing his neck and drawing in harsh breaths.

"Get out," Harry repeated.

Not taking his eyes from Harry, Miles opened the door, edged around it, and disappeared.

"I applaud your restraint," Snape noted.

"Let's get out of here," Harry said. "I want to talk to Blades tomorrow. I want to present my case for staying here. Will you set that up for me?"

Snape stared at Harry for a long time before he said, "Yes. I will set that up. But don't expect his decision to be any different from mine."

"Thank you. Since I can't go into the Ministry, you can bring him by my place, if he'll come. Any time after noon. I think I'm going to go home and sleep for a while."

"Are you all right?" Snape asked quietly.

"I will be," Harry said. "Thanks for everything. I'll see you tomorrow." And Harry apparated away.

##########

Potter looked like hell, Snape thought. It was quite obvious that he hadn't slept much, if at all, last night. He had deep, dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. He was jittery, like he'd imbibed multiple cups of caffeine (or like he was fighting an addiction to a highly addictive substance). He'd always been on the thin side, but now he looked positively gaunt. He'd given Potter a once-over when he'd arrived here with Blades and wondered if the other man could see just how unhealthy Potter looked.

Harry invited the two men into his flat and offered them tea. When they were all seated in the living room, Boris jumped into Snape's lap and Blades wasted no time. "Severus has told me that you wanted to argue your case, Potter, but let's not waste our time here. You look like shite. If Severus had told me just how much like shite you look, I wouldn't have even come here. You are not going back in. That is final, and there is nothing that you can say that will change my mind."

"Sir, please," Harry pleaded. "I think I'm close. I met the boss just the other day."

Blades looked at Severus. "You didn't share this piece of information with me, Severus. It was my understanding that we hadn't been able to determine who owned the establishment."

"Because the information Potter obtained is suspect."

Harry stared at Snape. He'd assumed that Snape had told Blades what had happened to him, but it appeared from Snape's cryptic statement that perhaps he hadn't. Harry was grateful – the fewer who knew about the attack, the better, in his opinion.

"In what way?" Blades pressed.

When Snape didn't speak, Harry plowed ahead with his unprovable accusation. "I think Lucius Malfoy owns The Pissing Oyster."

Blades stared at him in disbelief. "Lucius Malfoy." He turned to Snape. "You knew about this?"

"I knew that Potter believed that Lucius Malfoy had some connection. I also knew that he had no evidence to back that up."

"Potter?"

Harry huffed his frustration. He _knew_ he'd seen Malfoy the night he'd been attacked. And Miles had mentioned his meeting the boss and being provided with his first taste of Blue Dragon as a gift from the man. He _knew_ in his heart that Lucius Malfoy was the boss. But he couldn't prove it. And he couldn't explain the circumstances regarding _why _he couldn't prove it to Blades without telling him that he'd been . . . attacked.

When Harry didn't speak, Blades continued. "Look, you've been exposed to this drug. One of its well-documented side effects is hallucinations. Everyone in the Ministry, down to the lowliest cleaning lady in the bowels of the building, knows about your vendetta against the Malfoys. Your unfounded accusations against Lucius Malfoy are going nowhere."

"Then let me stay and get the evidence we need to . . ."

"No, Potter," Blades said with finality. "I know you're not real good at following orders, but I'm going to give you one right now, and I do not want you to argue, or offer your opinion, or roll your eyes, or even sigh quietly in disagreement. Are you listening to me?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said quietly.

"You are going to go to the Pissing Oyster today only long enough to quit your employment there. You will then present yourself to St. Mungo's, where you will have a complete physical and mental examination. When the healer informs me that you are ready, physically _and _mentally, to return to work, you will be removed from suspension, and you will be allowed to come back to work. On a different case. Is any of this unclear to you?"

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Blades held up a single finger to forestall what he was going to say. "Is any of this unclear?" he asked again.

"No, sir," Harry said in defeat.

"Good. See Healer Devlin at St. Mungos. He will be discrete and will report his findings directly to me." Blades stood up. "Thank you for the tea. Once you return, you will be debriefed and then reassigned. We've got to get back to work."

Snape stood up as well. He looked at Potter somewhat sympathetically. He knew how the boy felt about all of this, but he sincerely felt that they were doing what was best for Potter by getting him out of the unhealthy situation he'd gotten himself into. As he followed his boss out the door, he tried to give Potter a smile, but it looked more like a grimace.

##########

Harry looked around at the empty stage of the Pissing Oyster. Despite what had happened to him here, he was going to miss the life he'd been living for the past few months. He'd really enjoyed performing, and he'd been good at it. There were so few things in his life that he'd been good at naturally. Really, before this, there had only been flying. Performing had been the same. He'd never thought he was a particularly good singer – certainly, before this, no one had ever told him he was. But when he'd stepped up on that stage, in front of the band, with the lights up high and the crowd in front of him, he'd become someone different, someone _cool_. And he'd been _good_ – evidenced by the fact that an actual music producer wanted to talk to him. Well, he guessed that would come to nothing now. He had a real life to get back to.

"Liam," Miles said, and the man was much more subdued than usual.

"Hello, Miles. I'm done."

"What? You can't just –!" Miles saw the fire in Harry's eyes and tempered his tone. "You can't just leave us hanging like that."

"You can tell the guys I'm sorry." And he really was sorry to be bailing on the band like this. "There's no other choice."

"But what am I going to do?"

"Find someone else," Harry said simply.

"Someone else? Just like that? How exactly am I going to do that?"

Harry took a menacing step toward Miles. "Maybe you should have thought about that before you drugged me and raped me."

Miles stepped back and looked anywhere but at Harry. "Is there anything I can say that will make you change your mind?"

"Nothing," Harry said. "I'm going to clean out my dressing room. I'd prefer not to see you again before I leave."

##########

Healer Devlin listened patiently while Harry explained to him that he'd been dosed by an unknown person with Blue Dragon. He also explained that he'd been given an experimental antidote created by Potions Master Severus Snape, and directed the healer to Snape with questions regarding the formula of the antidote and the side effects. He mentioned nothing about the Rohypnol, and he mentioned nothing about the rape. After a thorough physical examination, the healer sat back and eyed the young man before him.

"You are in decent physical shape, Mr. Potter, aside from being a little underweight. I see no reason why you cannot return to full duty after a week."

"A week?!" Harry complained. "If I'm in such good shape, why do I have to wait a week?"

"From what you have told me, you are still suffering from the Blue Dragon addiction. You've done remarkably well to this point, and I have to think there was something in the antidote that Snape gave you that markedly diminished the cravings, because I've seen several witches and wizards suffering from the effects of this drug, and they are in much worse shape than you are, even two or three weeks after the dosing. You can be sure I will be speaking with Mr. Snape about that. But for you, the danger of re-addiction increases tenfold while your body still craves the drug. And in your line of work, you are much too likely to come into contact with it again."

"I'm _not_ addicted to the stupid drug!" Harry protested. "I've had no problem resisting the urge to take it again."

"But you're still _having_ the urges," Healer Devlin countered. "And until you no longer do, you're at risk. I will not approve sending you back into a situation where your likelihood of being exposed to the drug multiplies. I wouldn't send an alcoholic back to work at a bar if he was still suffering from DT's, and I'm not sending you back to the MLE while you still suffer from addiction symptoms. I am very confident that in a week, you will be completely free of the symptoms. In fact, I'm so sure that I'm not even going to make you come back in to give you a clean bill of health." He leaned forward and scratched onto a parchment.

"This is a return to work authorization," he said "I'll send it to your boss today. It says that you are cleared to report to work, with no restrictions, one week from today. That is the most I am willing to do."

Harry sighed, frustrated but accepting. "All right. Thank you, sir. Am I free to go?"

"By all means. Stay safe, Mr. Potter. The wizarding world can't afford to lose you."

Harry hid his eye roll by jumping off the exam table.

##########

Harry had spent the last six days more bored than he'd ever been in his adult life. On the positive side, his flat had never been cleaner. He wasn't due back in to work until tomorrow, but he was anxious to return, and he'd come in today just to check out his desk, take care of anything administrative, like departmental memos and the like that always seemed to accumulate even when he was at work every day. He was trying to keep a low profile: he was quite sure that if Blades or Snape saw him, neither would be happy. So sure of this was he that he'd worn his invisibility cloak into the building. He hadn't worn it for a while, and a feeling of nostalgia had washed over him when it settled over his head. He slunk silently into the bullpen, which was amazingly quiet. In fact, it was empty.

Harry walked soundlessly to his desk, sat down, drew a stack of papers under his cloak, and began to rummage through them, keeping an eye out for anyone approaching. When Blades entered the bullpen only moments later, Harry went immediately still. He watched the man survey the empty room, then continue his journey, his destination apparently Snape's office.

"Severus," he said from the doorway. "Where is everyone?"

"Out on assignment," Snape responded, out of Harry's sight.

"Potter's due back tomorrow."

Under his cloak, Harry began to get nervous what he might hear now.

"Yes," was all Snape said.

"You'll keep an eye on him, to make sure the doctor was right about him being ready to come back?"

"I will."

"His performance on this assignment, Severus –"

He stopped long enough that Snape felt the need to prompt him. "Yes?"

Harry held his breath, wondering if he was about to hear what a failure he was.

"I'm impressed with how long he was able to stay under. I know that the results might not be what we had hoped for, but he was able to pull off an entirely new identity, complete with a glamour, for months. Not everyone could have done that. We might want to keep that in mind for future assignments."

Harry heard Snape's snort. "He spent the last several months sleeping into the afternoon, drinking far too much alcohol, being the center of attention, and acting like a whore. It seems the perfect assignment for Potter. Best yet, he was out of _my _hair."

Harry felt as though he'd been punched in the solar plexus. He'd thought perhaps he and Snape had turned a corner over the last couple of weeks. Snape knew what had happened to Harry, and he had kept it to himself. Harry was immensely grateful for that. But why? Snape hadn't kept his secret for Harry's sake, apparently. He thought less of Harry now than he had before.

Very carefully, being certain not to disturb his chair or any of the papers that still lay on his desk, Harry stood up and made his way back from where he'd come from, a sheaf of papers forgotten in his hand.

##########

The Harry Potter that reported to work the following day was a different man. Harry had had a long discussion with himself last night, and he'd resolved that he was done lusting after Severus Snape. The man was never going to see him as a potential lover, as an equal, as anything other than an irritating and stupid child. He was tired of being insulted and dismissed out of hand, and he was just done. In fact, he was done with people in general. There would be no more hookups, no more one-offs, no more quick liaisons. Harry Potter, from this point on was going it alone. He'd seen the inside of his last pub. He was going to report to work when he was supposed to be there, and he was going to leave at the end of the day like he had a real life to go home to. He had no idea what he was going to do with all of this free time, but he'd worry about that later. He was not going to be here, pining after a man who didn't want him and never would.

He reported to Snape's office at the start of his shift. "Welcome back, Potter," Snape said.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said. The new Harry Potter was respectful to his boss. He didn't tease and he wasn't sarcastic. He was professional and aloof at all times. He stood practically at attention in front of the man's desk.

Snape reached into the top drawer of his desk and slid Harry's badge across to him. Harry picked it up and clipped it to his belt without looking at it. "Have you a new assignment for me, sir?"

"Not yet. Use your first day back to sort through the paperwork that has accumulated on your desk. I returned several reports to you that need further clarification or follow-up."

"I'm sorry that you found them lacking, sir," Harry said soberly. "I will get right on that."

Snape stared at Potter across the desk. Something was off. Potter was much more subdued than he'd expected him to be. "Would you ask Riggs to come in here a moment, please?"

"Of course, sir. Are you through with me, or will you require my continued presence?"

"I will dismiss you when I'm through with you, Potter," Snape answered, his confusion growing.

"Of course, sir. I will get Auror Riggs now."

Harry left the office and went to retrieve Louisa. "Auror Riggs," he said, "Supervisor Snape would like to see both of us in his office."

Louisa looked up at Harry, wondering if he was joking. He didn't appear to be. "All right, Harry." She stood up and followed him back into Snape's office.

"Shut the door," Snape ordered.

Louisa, as the last one in, complied, then sat in one of the chairs in front of Snape's desk. Harry resumed his military-like stance in front of Snape's desk. Snape shot him a quizzical look.

"As Riggs was the only auror informed of your undercover assignment, I wanted her to be aware that your suspension is now officially ended, and you are reporting back to work today. The official reason for your suspension was, and continued to be, your insubordination toward me. No details were provided regarding that insubordination, and you shouldn't feel compelled to make up stories. If anyone asks, tell them that you regret your actions, that you've put them behind you, and that you are eager to get back to work."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, gritting his teeth at the idea that all of his fellow workers thought that he was unable to control himself, that he was unprofessional enough to have earned himself a suspension that lasted months. What's done was done, though, and there was no changing it now.

"For God's sake, Potter, will you sit down!" Snape finally snapped.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Now both Snape and Riggs were looking at him strangely.

"Harry, are you all right?" Louisa asked.

"I am fine. Thank you for asking," Harry said, very politely.

"Before we go back out there and pretend that you were gone for less than noble reasons, Harry, I just wanted to say that I thought you did a fantastic job while you were undercover. I couldn't have done that for as long as you did, as well as you did," Louisa said earnestly. "And I just wanted you to know that."

Harry turned to face her. "I've spent the last several months sleeping into the afternoon, drinking far too much alcohol, being the center of attention, and acting like a whore. Seems like the perfect assignment for me, don't you think?" He turned to face Snape. "I'll bet Supervisor Snape was glad to have me out of his hair."

Snape's face betrayed nothing, but he felt as though he'd been stabbed right through the heart. Potter had somehow heard what he'd said yesterday, only one-quarter seriously, to Blades. This certainly explained the young man's attitude toward him. He fought not to sigh.

"Riggs, you may go now."

"Yes, sir," she said, rising to her feet. "It's good to have you back, Harry."

"Thank you. And thank you for your assistance over the last few months."

Louisa smiled worriedly at him, then left the room.

"Potter, I don't know how you heard . . ."

"Sir," Harry said, "I don't mean to interrupt, but I really have a lot of paperwork on my desk, and I should really get to it."

"All right," Snape conceded. He was not going to apologize to the whelp. They were all adults here. Potter would just have to get over his little bout of hurt feelings.

##########

Harry had spent a very quiet (and boring) first day back, anchored to his desk, completing copious amounts of paperwork, following up on minor matters via floo call, and making his way through a list of evidence that would be required in cases coming up for trial soon. He'd kept very much to himself, only speaking with others when they spoke to him, keeping to the story concocted by Snape to explain his absence. He accepted the mostly good-natured ribbing from the other male members of his team, and pretended not to notice Louisa watching him with concern. He was pointedly ignoring Snape and Snape's office, so he did not notice the dark eyes watching him through the open door.

On his second day back, Harry was called into an assignment meeting. He was surprised to see that he was the only member of his team present. He wanted to ask where everyone else was, but caught himself just in time – he was aloof, the consummate professional, doing what he was told and not asking questions unless they were pertinent to the assignment at hand. He waited, seemingly patiently, trying to appear as though he was listening intently while others were given assignments, until he was alone in the room with Blades and Snape. He focused all of his attention then on the big cheese.

"Welcome back, Potter," Blades said.

"Thank you, sir."

"You may have wondered why the rest of your team isn't present."

Harry just looked back at the man, trying to portray no more interest than would be required of such a statement.

"The remainder of your team is still working the Blue Dragon case. We'll be providing you with some solo assignments for a time."

Harry tried to keep the hurt off his face at this announcement. He wanted to work with his team. Even though he'd been pulled out of his undercover assignment, he could still help with the rest. And it would allow him to find the link that he just knew existed between Lucius Malfoy and all of this. The old Harry would have protested vociferously, and it was clear from both Blades' and Snape's expressions that they were bracing themselves for that very thing, but all Harry said was, "Whatever you think is best, sir."

Blades did not hide his look of surprise. "Great." He slid a folder across the table to Harry. "We got a call in this morning about a missing girl. She's fifteen years old, home schooled, and according to the family, has a habit of running away. The information is all in the file. Go talk to the parents. See what you can find out."

"Yes, sir. Will that be all, sir?"

"Yes, Potter, you're dismissed."

Harry stood up, taking his new assignment file with him. "Thank you, sir." And he turned and left the two men, who both watched him go with something like mild concern on their faces.

"Are you sure he's ready to return to work, Severus?" Blades asked after the young man had gone.

Snape shrugged. "The healer said he was."

"Well, he seems a different person, doesn't he?"

"Indeed," Snape agreed. Not too long ago, Snape would have been thrilled beyond measure to see Potter acting in a reserved, polite, and professional manner. Now it worked its way under his skin, because he suspected his careless words from two days ago were the cause of the transformation.

"Keep an eye on him, would you?" Blades requested.

"Of course."

##########

Harry settled at his desk and opened the file he'd been given. On the top was a photo of a teenaged girl with long brown hair and large brown eyes. "Pretty," Harry murmured. Her name was Eliza Godfrey, and her mother and step father, Evelyn and Graham Gaston, had last seen their daughter the previous evening. They'd had an altercation over a boyfriend, they'd sent Eliza to her room, and when Evelyn went to wake her this morning, she'd found the girl's room empty. They'd checked with her friend, who claimed not to have seen her in days.

Beneath the current report, Harry found two prior MLE reports, one from last year, one from the year prior, concerning Eliza's previous disappearances. Both times, she'd run away from home and been recovered two days later in the home of a friend. Harry hoped that would turn out to be the case again this time.

He slapped the file closed, threw his cloak on over his auror robes, and left the office.

##########

The Muggle neighborhood that the Gastons lived in was very suburban, much like Privet Drive. The houses were of much the same style and constructed at roughly the same time. The streets were laid out in squares, with flashing traffic signals at each intersection, the lawns green and neatly manicured, flower gardens in full bloom. Harry found the correct house and was admitted and offered tea.

"No, thank you, Mrs. Gaston," Harry declined as they settled at the dining room table. Harry flipped his notebook opened and prepared to take notes. "I know you've gone over this already when you reported your daughter missing, but I'd like to take you through the events of last night again. Any little detail could be important. How did Eliza spend her day?"

Mrs. Gaston's hands were shaking, and she drew in a shaky breath. "She's home schooled, so we spent from ten until three on her studies. She went to her room until dinner time. We ate. She asked if she could go out with her boyfriend. We said no. We . . . argued. We sent her to her room. We assumed she was there. When I went in to wake her at eight, she just wasn't there." When she finished, Mrs. Gaston had tears in her eyes.

"We're going to do everything we can to find her," Harry assured the woman. "So let's back up just a little. You had supper?"

"Yes, at six, when Graham got home from work."

"And what do you do for work, Mr. Gaston?" Harry asked, turning to the husband.

"I work for a beverage distributor."

"Muggle job?" Harry queried.

"Yes," Gaston said, looking somewhat affronted by the question. "Considering that I _am_ a Muggle, that's not so strange."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Gaston. I don't mean to offend in any way. I just need to know if there's anyone at your place of employment that might want to harm your family."

Gaston looked away for a brief moment before saying, "No. There's no one."

Harry noted the minute hesitation and filed it away for future reference. "And dinner concluded at what time?"

"Seven," Mrs. Gaston said. "We were still sitting at the table when Liza said she was going out with Devon."

"And who is Devon?"

"Devon Fitzwilliam. He's a boy that Liza has been seeing for a couple of months."

"And is he a boy that you approve of?"

"He's a punk," Gaston said.

"So the answer to that question would be no, then?" asked Harry.

"Frankly, we don't know him all that well. He's older than she is," Mrs. Gaston explained. "He's nineteen. And she's a typical fifteen-year old who think she should be able to go where she wants, when she wants. And when we say no, she reacts in a typical teenage way."

"And is he a wizard?"

"Quite frankly, I don't know," Mrs. Gaston confessed. "Liza's never said either way."

"Do you know where Devon lives?"

"His address is in Liza's room. I saw it on her bulletin board. I'll get it for you."

"Thank you. I'll obviously need to talk to him. Do you have a phone number for him?"

"No, she's probably got that just in her phone."

"All right. So you argued with Liza about Devon, and she went to her room. What time was that?"

Evelyn looked at her husband. "Oh, I don't know. Seven-thirty?"

Gaston nodded his agreement.

"And once she went to her room, you never saw her again?" Harry confirmed.

Evelyn sobbed and said, "No."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Gaston. I didn't mean it quite that way," Harry apologized. "Does Eliza have any close friends?"

"There's really only one now. She's home schooled, so she doesn't meet as many other children as she might. Mandy Pinkham lives two houses down. They've been friends since they were four."

"And have you spoken with Mandy today?"

"Yes," Mrs. Gaston said. "I called her as soon as I realized Liza was missing. She claims not to have seen her for two days."

"All right. I will speak with her as well. Witch or Muggle?"

"She's a Muggle."

"Is anything missing from Eliza's room?"

Mrs. Gaston was crying again. "Her purse, her phone. I think that's it."

"No clothes, or favorite personal effects? Anything to indicate that she left with no intention of coming back?"

"I think all of her clothes are there, but I can't be sure," Evelyn confessed, sniffling. "She has so many things. Her book bag is there. If she was planning to leave, it's likely she would have put her things in there, but it's still there, so . . ." Mrs. Gaston was starting to get a little hysterical, obviously beginning to imagine all of the awful things that could have happened to her daughter.

Harry reached out and covered her hand with his own. "I know it's hard, Mrs. Gaston, but try not to worry. We're going to do everything we can to find Eliza and bring her home safely."

Mrs. Gaston made a visible effort to pull herself together. "Thank you."

"Do you have any other children?" Harry continued.

"No. It's just Liza."

"And where is Liza's father?"

"He died when Liza was eight," Mrs. Gaston told him.

"Have you alerted the Muggle authorities to Liza's disappearance?"

"We tried. Given her history, they said they wouldn't start to look for her until she'd been missing for forty-eight hours."

Harry huffed. A child was missing, and the Muggles wanted to wait two days to even start looking for her. And since they had to get into this, he said, "Tell me about the prior times that Eliza has gone missing."

Mrs. Gaston sniffed and began shredding the napkin in her hand. "They were both similar to this. We argued about something, I don't even remember what now. She got upset, and she ran away. She had a friend named Penny back then, and both times, she went to Penny's. When she was asked if she'd seen Liza, Penny lied. Both times. Both times, Liza was hiding in her basement. But she came home on her own."

"And do you think this time is different?" Harry asked gently.

"It feels different," Mrs. Gaston said. "Penny was . . . Penny was not a good influence on Liza. I was never happier than when she moved away six months ago."

"And do you know where Penny is now?"

"Her family moved to South Africa."

So not a likely place for Liza to have gone this time.

"Since then," Mrs. Gaston continued, "things have been much better. Liza has been less confrontational. It isn't until she started seeing this new boy that things have gotten tense again. But she's older now, she's matured a lot over the last few months. I just don't think she'd run away again. I have no way of proving this. It's just a feeling." She looked at Harry with beseeching eyes, willing him to put some faith in her mother's intuition, to not just dismiss her daughter's disappearance as yet another runaway attempt. "Please bring her home, Mr. Potter.**"**

##########

Mandy Pinkham was a plain, freckled-faced, brown-haired girl with thick glasses. She opened the door when Harry knocked.

"Hi, Mandy? My name is Harry Potter. I'm with the police." He flashed his badge quickly at her so that she wouldn't seen the unfamiliar lettering. "I'm looking for Eliza Godfrey. Can I talk with you for a minute?"

Mandy looked down at her feet, clearly nervous. "I dunno. My parents aren't home."

"Well, we can talk out here," Harry said, gesturing to the step. "Please. Eliza may be in danger."

"All right," Mandy relented. She closed the door, and they sat on the step.

"I know Liza's mum called you this morning," Harry began. "And you said that you hadn't seen Liza for a couple of days. I just wanted to make sure that you hadn't forgotten anything."

Mandy was looking anywhere but at Harry, and it was so obvious that she was hiding something, something that was bothering her, something that she desperately wanted to share.

"Mandy," Harry said, keeping his voice warm and reassuring. "It's obvious that you know something. Please tell me what it is. I only want to get Liza back safe. Whatever it is you know, I promise you, you will not get into trouble."

"Not worried about myself," she said miserably. "It's Eliza. She called me, said she'd had a fight with her mum about Devon. She had planned to meet with Devon last night, but her mum said she couldn't go. She told me she was going to sneak out and meet him." She peeked up at Harry now. "She goes out the window all the time, when she's supposed to be in bed."

"And what time did you talk with her?"

"It was about eight, I think, maybe seven thirty, somewhere in there."

"Did she say where she was meeting Devon?"

"No, she didn't. We talked for about ten minutes. That was the last I heard from her." Mandy had tears leaking from her eyes now.

"Do you think she ran away, Mandy?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," she said with a shrug. "I don't think so. But maybe Devon convinced her or something."

"Do you know Devon?"

"No, I never met him. She'd only been seeing him for like two weeks."

"What did she tell you about him?"

Mandy shrugged again. "Just that he was cute. He was older. That's all I really know."

"Mandy, look at me," Harry requested. When the girl raised her eyes to his, Harry gently dove into her mind. "Have you told me everything?"

"Yes," she said, and Harry knew she was telling the truth.

"Good. Thank you. That really helps. Have you tried calling Liza today?"

"Yeah. She's not picking up."

Harry scratched his cell phone number on a page of his notebook, then passed it to Mandy. "This is my number. If you think of anything else, or if Liza gets in contact with you, I want you to call me."

Mandy took the paper, looked at it, and nodded. "Are you going to tell Liza's mum that I lied to her?"

"Only if it needs to come up. I really don't think she's gonna care about that now, hon."

"I hope not. Liza doesn't have many friends. It would suck if she said we couldn't hang out any more."

Harry smiled at her. "You're a good friend. You'll call me?"

"I will," Mandy said, smiling at him for the first time. "I hope you find her right away."

"We're going to do everything we can," Harry promised. "Thanks for everything." Harry watched Mandy go back inside, then started back towards the Gaston house. He stood on the sidewalk looking up at the house: the window to Liza's bedroom, which Harry had looked through earlier, searching for any sign of where the girl might have gone, was directly over the porch on the front of the house. The roof of the porch would be perfect for slipping out unnoticed, which certainly provided support for Mandy's story that Liza had gone out the window to meet with her boyfriend.

Now to find out if she'd made it there.

##########

Devon Fitzwilliam lived in a flat in the west end of London, not far geographically from Harry's own flat, but in a different neighborhood economically. Harry's knock on the door was met by a young male with spiked dark hair, a nose ring, and more tattoos than anyone at the age of nineteen should have had time to procure. Given Harry's recent employment, he tried not to judge.

"Devon Fitzwilliam?" he inquired politely.

The young man nodded, looking at Harry with a familiar look of awe.

"Hi. I'm sorry to intrude. I'm . . ."

"Harry Potter," he interrupted. "You're Harry Potter."

Harry smiled. He was dealing with a wizard. He extended his hand and shook with the eager young man.

"Wow," Fitzwilliam said. "You're . . . I can't believe I'm talking with Harry Potter!"

"You're a wizard then, I take it?"

"Yeah. Mum and dad both."

"I'm here to talk to you about Eliza Godfrey. May I come in?"

"Oh! Of course! Come right in. Sorry about the mess."

Mess was a bit of an understatement, but Harry tried not to judge about that, either. His own flat had looked much like this for the first few months after he'd first moved in.

"I'm not sure if you realize it, Mr. Fitzwilliam, but Eliza is missing from her home."

"What? Missing? What do you mean?"

"I spoke with her friend Mandy this morning. She said that Liza told her that she was planning on meeting with you last night. Her parents discovered that she was not in her room this morning. I need to know what the two of you did last night."

Fitzwilliam sat back on the sofa, concern written over his face. "I don't understand. She was fine when I left her."

"Well, let's back up, Devon. What time did you get together?"

"She called me just before eight. I picked her up at the end of her street at eight thirty or so."

"And was it customary for you to pick her up at the end of the street as opposed to at her house?"

"I met her only a couple of weeks ago. We've gone out like four times. The other three times, we met at someplace near her house. Last night, when she called, she asked me to pick her up at the end of her street. So I did."

"Did she tell you why she wanted you to do that?"

"She didn't when she called. She did tell me that her parents had given her grief about going out with me. I figured maybe that was it."

"All right. So you picked her up at eight thirty-ish. Where did you go?"

"We drove around for a couple of hours. We stopped and got burgers. We listened to music. That's really all."

"And did you drive her home?"

"No. She wanted me to leave her at the end of the street. So I dropped her off at the same place I picked her up."

"And did you watch her walk home?"

"No. I just took off. What happened to her?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out. What time was it when you left her?"

"I'd say . . . eleven, maybe a few minutes later."

"And did you come straight here?"

"Yeah."

"Do you live with anyone, Devon? Is there anyone who can confirm your whereabouts last night?"

"No, I live alone. Wait a minute. Do you think I did something to her?"

"I don't think anything yet, Devon. I'm trying to piece together where she was last night and why she's not at home like she's supposed to be right now."

"Well, I didn't do anything to her, I swear! She was a nice girl, and I liked spending time with her. That was it!"

"All right," Harry said soothingly. "I'm not accusing you of anything, Devon. But it does appear that you were the last one to see her, so anything you can tell me is important."

"Can I put my memories in a pensieve for you? Would that help?"

Harry studied the boy for a moment. The fact that he was offering this told him loads about what the young man might or might not have done last night. "If you're serious about that, Devon, I have a quicker way. Will you allow me to use legillimency on you?"

"What's that?"

"I can look into your mind and I'll know if you're trying to project false images. If you're telling me the truth, I'll know it in a matter of minutes."

"Um, sure, I guess," Devon said a little nervously. "Will it hurt?"

"Not at all. You likely won't even know I was there."

"Will it help you find Eliza?"

"It likely will."

"All right then. Go ahead."

When Harry left the young man's mind, he had no doubt that Devon's evening with Eliza had gone exactly as he'd described. "Thank you, Devon. That was very helpful." He wrote his number on another page from his notebook and handed it to the young man. "If you hear from her, please call me. Her parents are very worried."

"I certainly will."

##########

Harry walked the path that Eliza would have taken from her home to the corner where she'd met with Devon, and then he walked the path back again, studying the ground as he went. The idea that Eliza hadn't left of her own accord had been growing in his mind all day, and he couldn't help the worry that was growing as well. He retraced his steps once again and made his way back to the corner, wondering where the girl had gone after she'd gotten out of her boyfriend's car. He got to the corner and stood in the spot where Devon had last seen her, looking back toward the Gaston home. He then turned in a complete circle, taking in everything that he could see, on the ground, at eye level, and in the air. In the air. The traffic lights. All equipped with cameras. In the excitement of this realization, he nearly apparated away right in plain view of several Muggles. He managed to get hold of himself and walked away until he was alone, then he returned to the Ministry.

The Magical Law Enforcement department had a liaison with the Muggle police, someone whose job it was to coordinate law enforcement efforts when a crime bisected the wizarding and Muggle worlds. But there were procedures to be followed for accessing Muggle technology, procedures that required that he justify his need for the contact, so he returned to his desk, spoke to no one, and began to write his report like a demon possessed. He detailed the interviews he'd conducted this morning, summarized his conclusions, and requested access to the video footage of CCTV cameras at the intersection near the Gaston home.

The request required the signature of a supervisor, and once Harry had it ready, he hesitated. He'd been avoiding Snape as much as possible, but he needed this form signed, and as quickly as possible. He'd just made up his mind to march himself into Snape's office when he caught sight of Arthur Weasley. Arthur had the authority to approve his request! He got up and hurried toward the older man, glancing into Snape's office on the way. Good. Snape wasn't there. That would explain why he was bypassing the chain of command like this.

"Mr. Weasley! Got a minute?"

##########

Harry sat in the office of the Muggle liaison. Guy Lemongrass had set him up with the video in this special room here at the Ministry, spelled to allow Muggle technology to operate without interference from magic. He was watching the video from the traffic camera for the third time, hoping that this time he would see something he'd missed on the first two viewings. The camera's angle allowed him to see Devon Fitzwilliam's car pull up and park on the side of the street at 11:09. For thirty-three seconds (Harry was making notes of the time stamps on the video), nothing happened. He could not see what was going on inside the car during this time.

Then, the passenger side door opened, and Eliza Godfrey stepped out onto the sidewalk. She closed the car door, leaned in through the car's open window for eight seconds, then walked away from the car, down the street and toward her home. Devon's car pulled away immediately and left in the opposite direction. Eliza walked in the light of the street lamp until she reached the edge of the circle of light. For six seconds, she disappeared into the darkness, until she reappeared in the light of the next street lamp. She walked through that circle of light, walking away from the camera, and disappearing on the other side

And she never appeared in the next circle of light. She'd only made it halfway down the street to her home, and she just disappeared completely at 11:12. Harry stared into the area between the two circles of light where the young girl had gone, but the darkness was too complete, and he saw no movement, nothing that would tell him who might have been waiting for her in the darkness or what might have happened to her in that short space of time and geography. He watched the videotape for several more minutes, hoping to see someone leave, but the street remained empty.

He was now convinced that Eliza Godfrey had been abducted. He gathered his reports and the notes he'd made regarding the videotape, and he went in search of his boss.

##########

Harry hurried down the busy hall toward the Head Auror's office, his reports in his hand, his presentation laid out in his mind. His steps faltered when he neared the office and saw that Snape was sitting in the chair before Blades' desk. He slowed to prepare himself, to remind himself to be aloof and professional with the man, to remind himself that he was no longer pursuing the older man, that he'd come to the conclusion that the pursuit was worthless and would never come to any sort of happy ending.

His feet took him to the door of the office and he knocked quietly on the frame. Both men looked up at him. "Do you have a moment, sir?" Harry asked, directing his eyes and his attention at Blades.

"Potter," Blades said, "yes, come in."

Harry took a step inside the office, but didn't go any closer to the desk, which would have put him closer to Snape. "Sir, it's about the missing girl – Eliza Godfrey. I've spent all morning looking into her disappearance, and I think she's been abducted."

"Sit, Potter," Blades said, indicating the chair beside Snape, "and shut the door."

Harry closed the door and sat in the chair. Professional and aloof, he nodded once at Snape, then turned back to Blades, who ordered, "Explain."

Harry looked down at the summary he'd prepared. "She was discovered missing this morning when her mother went into her room to wake her. She's home schooled. Eliza has only one friend, who confesses to talking with Eliza last night. Eliza told her that she was meeting with her boyfriend secretly, because her parents did not approve of the boy. I spoke with the boyfriend. He allowed me to use legillimency him. He dropped Eliza off at the corner of her street shortly after eleven last night. The most concerning thing is the video I reviewed from the traffic camera on the corner of her street. There are patches of light under the streetlamps where she is clearly visible walking towards her home. Between two patches of light, where she's hidden by darkness, she just . . . disappears. I believe she was abducted in that patch of darkness."

Both men stared at him, taking in what he said. "You've already seen this video footage?" Blades finally asked.

"Excuse me," Snape said, speaking for the first time. "But a request to liaise with Muggle law enforcement must be approved by a supervisor, is that not correct?"

"Yes, sir," Harry admitted.

"I approved no such request," Snape noted.

Harry reigned in his impatience. A girl was missing, and Snape wanted to discuss protocol? The old Harry Potter would have jumped to his feet and demanded that they worry about procedures later and get out there and find Eliza. The new Harry Potter, the _aloof and professional_ Harry Potter, turned to his supervisor, trained his eyes on a spot six inches to the right of Snape's nose, and said, "You were not in your office. The matter seemed somewhat urgent. Arthur Weasley happened through the bullpen, and I spoke to him about the request. He approved it, and I took it right up to Lemongrass. He also recognized the urgency and took the request immediately to his counterpart with the Muggles. They pulled the footage I needed and sent it over. I just finished looking at it. If you want to see it . . ."

"No," Blades said. Muggle technology, though it had proven useful before, made him nervous.

"Have you been able to ascertain a motive for the girl's kidnaping?" Snape asked. "Are her parents in the middle of a custody dispute? Has there been a ransom demand?"

"Eliza lives with her mother and step-father. Her biological father died some time ago. The parents have not received a ransom demand."

"And you're certain the girl hasn't just run away, in a fit of teenage angst?" Blades asked.

"I sort of thought it was a possibility until I talked with the boyfriend. She was clearly heading home when he dropped her off. And then I saw the videotape, and she just disappeared. It just doesn't feel like a runaway situation."

"Let's assume it's an abduction," Blades said. "What's the motivation?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "It could be a simple crime of opportunity by some perv who was lurking in the shadows. But I think the perp must be a wizard."

"Why?" Snape asked.

"Because she never comes out of the shadows. She just disappeared between the two circles of light. And no one leaves the shadows later. I think she was apparated away."

"There are other possible explanations," Blades pointed out.

Now the old Harry was starting to get stronger within him. "Sir, with all due respect, that is certainly true. But if she has been abducted, every second counts. We should have the team out there looking for her now."

"You're right, Potter," Blades said. "But we'll be handing this off to the Crimes Against Children Unit. Is that everything you have?" he asked, indicating the file Harry had in his hand.

Harry tightened his grip on the file and pulled it closer to his chest. "Sir, I'd like to keep working on this one. I've established positive relationships with all of the witnesses. _I_ discovered the video footage. I've worked this all up."

"I realize that, Potter, and you've done a thorough and excellent job. But this type of situation falls directly under the purview of Crimes Against Children. It's what they do. And they'll appreciate the excellent head start you've given them on this."

Harry couldn't believe this was happening to him again. He'd done everything they'd asked him to do, had done it _better_ than they'd expected him to do, he'd proven that he was up to the challenge, and still they were taking the case away from him. _Thanks_, they were saying, with a condescending pat on the head, _but we'll let the _real_ aurors handle this now._

The old Harry would have looked to Snape now, expecting (demanding) that he intervene on his behalf. The new and improved Harry knew the man wouldn't, so he didn't bother even looking at him. Instead, he stood up, placed the file gently on Blades' desk, and left the office without a further word.

Both men watched him go. "I think we're losing him, Severus," Blades said quietly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Reward for Perseverance**

by Warviben

Chapter Three

**Summary**: After the death of Voldemort, both Harry Potter and Severus Snape join the Aurors. Harry struggles with a lack of respect from his co-workers, an attraction he cannot quash, and disappointment because the job he'd always wanted is not what he thought it would be. Snape struggles with Harry.

**Warnings:** This fic contains detailed descriptions of sexual encounters. Some of them are male-on-male. If any of this disturbs you, please hit the back button.

_From Chapter Two:_

_Harry couldn't believe this was happening to him again. He'd done everything they'd asked him to do, had done it better than they'd expected him to do, he'd proven that he was up to the challenge, and still they were taking the case away from him. Thanks, they were saying, with a condescending pat on the head, but we'll let the real aurors handle this now._

_The old Harry would have looked to Snape now, expecting (demanding) that he intervene on his behalf. The new and improved Harry knew the man wouldn't, so he didn't bother even looking at him. Instead, he stood up, placed the file gently on Blades' desk, and left the office without a further word._

_Both men watched him go. "I think we're losing him, Severus," Blades said quietly._

"Perhaps we should stop taking cases away from him and making him feel as though we don't have faith in his abilities," Severus noted in a rare moment of understanding where Harry Potter was concerned. He knew he was being hypocritical: he was, after all, the one who belittled Harry the most. But as he stared at the empty doorframe, he couldn't help but think that Blades was right. He got quickly to his feet.

Harry was at his desk, gathering together the notes he'd made of the investigation but not included in the file folder he'd just handed over. Despite what he'd been told, he had no intention of dropping this, at least not before visiting Eliza's mother – he'd promised her he would do everything he could to bring her daughter home, and he wanted to at least assure her that the MLE was giving her daughter's disappearance all the attention it deserved, even if he wouldn't personally be involved any longer.

A dark shadow fell over his desk, and Harry looked up to find Snape looming over him. "What are you doing?" the man asked.

"Just getting my notes together," Harry said, looking down at his desk. "Was there something you needed, sir?"

"I wondered if you might have a moment. I wished to speak with you."

"I was just on my way out actually."

"Oh? Where to?"

"Just an errand I have to run. It's lunch time, after all, and I don't currently have an assignment. I'll be back in an hour. Perhaps we could speak then. Is there something wrong?" Harry asked, looking up, concerned that he'd done something to land himself in trouble, and after he'd been so careful!

"No, there is nothing wrong," Snape said. "I simply wanted to . . . to say well done, this morning."

Harry couldn't help it – even the lukewarm words of praise warmed him in places that made him frown, given his resolution. "Oh, well thank you, sir."

Snape stood awkwardly beside Harry's desk for a long moment. There was more he should say, he knew, but words of praise didn't come naturally to him. Nor did apologies.

"So are we good?" Harry asked. "Because I really need to . . ."

"Oh, yes, yes. We are good." He stepped away from the desk. "Enjoy your lunch."

##########

Harry laid out for the Gastons the efforts he'd made on behalf of their daughter and the conclusions he'd drawn. He finished by telling them that Crimes Against Children would be taking over the investigation now that they had decided that a crime actually had taken place.

"Do you know anyone who might want to harm Eliza? Or who might want to harm you by using her?" Harry finished.

"No," Mrs. Gaston said immediately, tears streaming from her eyes. "No. Who would want to hurt her?"

Graham Gaston was looking anywhere but at his wife. His heel hammered against the floor, and he looked incredibly agitated.

"Mr. Graham?" Harry asked, his senses on high alert. "Is there something that you'd like to add?"

"What?" the man said, his head whipping around the face Harry. "No. No, I don't know who could have done this. Why would I know? I'm the Muggle here, remember? You said she was likely taken by a wizard. So you should be looking in your world, not mine. Now where are these other aurors you said would be taking over? Shouldn't they be here by now? They'd better be taking this seriously!" He jumped to his feet. "I'm gonna talk a walk."

"Graham!" his wife called after his retreating back.

"I won't go far," he yelled back, and then the front door opened and closed.

Harry just knew the man was hiding something, but there was nothing he could do about it now. "Does he know something, Mrs. Gaston?" he asked softly.

"I . . . I don't know. I can't imagine that anyone Graham knows could have done this."

"The other aurors are going to do everything they can to find your daughter, Mrs. Gaston. I know it's hard, but try not to worry."

Mrs. Gaston smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Potter. For not assuming that my daughter left on her own. If you hadn't been so proactive, no one would be looking for her for another day. So, thank you."

Harry smiled sadly. "I'm just doing my job, ma'am. I'm going to keep Eliza in my thoughts until we bring her home."

##########

After leaving Evelyn Gaston, feeling as though he was letting her down and breaking promises to her, Harry walked back toward the intersection where Devon had dropped Eliza off. Once he got there, he turned around and traced Eliza's trail back toward her home. Between the second and third street lights, he stopped and looked to his left. If someone was hiding here, waiting to kidnap Eliza, this is where he would have hidden.

The house here was set twenty meters back from the street, but the fenced yard bordered the sidewalk. If someone had waited just inside the gate which accessed the flagstone path to the house's front door, they would have been virtually invisible to anyone passing by in the dark. He could have seen anyone approaching him, but they wouldn't have been able to see him. It was the perfect spot.

Harry looked up at the house. It didn't appear that anyone was at home, so he moved closer, keeping his eyes down as he walked. He searched the ground on the sidewalk side of the fence between the two circles of light and found nothing unusual. Looking up at the house again, Harry took a chance and opened the gate. It opened silently – someone kept it well-oiled. Harry went through and examined the ground on this side of the fence.

On the ground, next to the gate's post, he spotted a cigarette butt, smoked down to the filter. Removing the evidence collection kit from a pocket of his robe, Harry plucked the butt from the ground with tweezers and dropped it into a bindle. Perhaps the owner had dropped it here, or a random passerby. But maybe, just maybe, the man who had waited here for Eliza had smoked a cigarette while waiting, and if his DNA was in the system, they'd have a name. Figuratively crossing his fingers, Harry made his way back to the Ministry.

##########

Harry waited impatiently in the criminalistics laboratory. He'd come directly here with the cigarette butt and did something he never did on purpose: he used his fame to get his way. The pretty young lab tech had practically fallen over herself to help when _the_ Harry Potter had brought her a piece of evidence and asked her to move it to the top of her pile, widening his beautiful green eyes and touching her hand and very seriously telling her about the young girl who so desperately needed their help. How could she refuse?

Finally, Harry spotted her heading back toward him, a wide smile adorning her face. That was good, right?

"Did you find anything?" he asked.

"I did. There was DNA on the cigarette. And I found a match in our system."

Harry held his breath. "Who?"

"Name's Darrow Beasley."

Well that kind of fell flat. Who the hell was Darrow Beasley? "Who the hell is Darrow Beasley?" he wondered out loud.

"Well, he's got a record, that's how I found him. He's a fugitive, actually. Records'll be able to tell you more."

Harry smiled at her. "Thank you so much. You're an angel."

Harry kissed her on the cheek. She was still dazedly rubbing the spot where his lips had touched her five minutes later.

Next stop: records. He took the file he was given and returned to his desk. Before he could even open it, the witch who tended the reception desk for the MLE escorted Devon Fitzwilliam to his desk.

"Devon!" Harry said, surprised to see the young man. "What are you doing here?"

"There's something I didn't tell you, when we spoke."

Harry jumped up and stole Louisa's chair, pulling it close to his desk. "Sit," he said. After Devon had done so, Harry said, "So what is it?"

"I'm not sure if this will be helpful or not. It probably doesn't have anything to do with anything, but I thought I ought to tell you."

"Tell me what, Devon?" Harry prodded.

"Eliza's stepfather. She told me he has a drug problem. She said her mother doesn't know – he's been hiding it from her. But Liza saw him taking the drugs one time. He got really angry with her and threatened her that if she told anyone, she'd be sorry. So maybe – I don't know, maybe he did something to her to keep her quiet."

The top of Harry's spine was tingling, as it always did when a problem was about to be sorted out. "Devon, did Eliza tell you what kind of drug her step-father was taking?"

"She said it was that new thing that everyone's taking. Blue Dragon."

This was too much of a coincidence to be a coincidence, Harry thought. "Thank you, Devon. This is very helpful information. Is there anything else?"

"No, that's it. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. It just didn't seem relevant then. But now I figured anything could be important."

"You're more right than you know, Devon. Thank you so much for coming in."

"You're welcome. Will you let me know when you find Eliza?"

"I'm not on the case any more, Devon. But I'll do my best."

He shook the young man's hand, then beckoned the witch forward to escort Devon back out.

Stunned, Harry sat down. He'd suspected that Graham Gaston knew something about his step-daughter's disappearance, and now the pieces were starting to come together. Graham Gaston, Muggle with a magical wife and step-child, had an addiction to a drug manufactured in the wizarding world and sold in Muggle clubs. Did his addiction have anything to do with Eliza's disappearance?

Maybe Darrow Beasley could fill in some of the blanks. Harry sat back down and opened Beasley's file.

Beasley had been a Death Eater. He'd been injured and apprehended at the Final Battle, but while awaiting trial for his crimes, he'd escaped from custody. Aurors had been searching for him for the last three years. Harry looked into his background. His wife and children had denounced him when he'd taken Voldemort's mark. Two months later, they'd all been killed in a Death Eater raid – obviously, Beasley had had his revenge. After his family's slaughter, Beasley had thrown himself into his new life – prosecutors had amassed numerous witness accounts detailing his attendance at Death Eater raids against Muggles and blood traitors. These were the crimes for which he would be tried once he was apprehended. In addition to the kidnaping of Eliza Godfrey.

So now Harry knew who – what he didn't know was why. But this wasn't his case any more, was it?

Harry quickly wrote up the newest reports and approached Snape's office. He knocked softly.

"Potter, come in," Snape said, obviously surprised at seeing Harry.

Harry approached Snape's desk and laid his reports on the desk. "I went to the Gastons," he said, "to explain to them that I wasn't going to be looking for Eliza any more." Harry had expected to be chastised for doing this, so he said, "I had promised them. I got the sense that the step-father was hiding something. Eliza's boyfriend came in to see me. He wanted to tell me that Graham Gaston has a Blue Dragon problem. Also, when I left the Gastons' house, I walked down the street toward the corner where the boyfriend dropped her off. I thought since I was there, I would look around in the area where Eliza disappeared. I was going to do that this afternoon. Before I got taken off the case."

"You have been busy," Snape noted.

Harry shrugged. "Just doing my job. I found a cigarette butt on the ground. Hoping that it might have belonged to whoever abducted Eliza, I brought it in for analysis. There was DNA on it. Belonged to a man named Darrow Beasley." Harry watched Snape closely for a reaction. If the man had been a Death Eater, it was very possible that Snape knew him.

Snape's eyes widened at this news.

"Did you know him, sir?" Harry asked. "He was a Death Eater. He escaped from custody a couple of years ago."

"Yes, I knew him. Not well, but we traveled in the same circles, obviously. So he didn't leave the country," Snape mused.

"Do you know anything about him? Anything that might tell us where he is now?"

"If I had known anything helpful, I would have shared it with the team responsible for tracking him down," Snape said. "He lived in Devon. Aurors have had monitoring charms on his residence since he disappeared, but I don't believe he's ever gone back there. I believe he worked for Lucius Malfoy in one of his business concerns."

Harry's ears perked up at this name. Snape noticed and wished he hadn't said anything. "Don't," he warned the boy. "Don't jump to conclusions."

"I won't," Harry assured him, but his mind was whirling. Blue Dragon and a former employee. He didn't know how, but Harry was certain that Lucius Malfoy was mixed up in all of this somehow. "I only came in here to ask you to pass along this new information to the Crimes Against Children people. It's their case, and they should have it."

"All right. I will. Thank you. And well done, I might add."

Once again, Harry couldn't help the warmth that spread through him at Snape's praise, but he didn't let it show on his face. "Sir, when will I receive a new assignment?"

"I will speak with Blades today."

"Thank you. I'm sorry to have bothered you."

"It was no bother," Snape assured him. Snape watched Harry go, at a loss as to how to talk to the young man now. Every interaction they had now seemed stilted and forced. Snape had never wanted to be Harry's best friend or, heaven forbid, his lover, but he'd become comfortable with the bordering on disrespectful banter he and Potter had engaged in since they'd come to work together, and he found he missed it. What had changed? Was it Potter's anger at being pulled so quickly out of the undercover assignment? If that were the case, shouldn't he have gotten over it by now? Potter had never been one to hold a grudge. He got angry, sure, but his anger usually burned hot white for a brief time before cooling quickly. Was it possible that he had this seriously wounded the boy with his thoughtless words? Snape had never seen Harry like this for an extended period: withdrawn, depressed almost, keeping his emotions hidden. He hoped whatever it was, Potter got over it quickly.

##########

Harry was glad he hadn't yet been placed on another assignment: he had time to research Lucius Malfoy's properties. He spent a long time digging around in the archives, longer than he would have needed if he'd asked for help. He didn't want to alert anyone as to what he was looking for, so he plowed through the records himself.

His stomach growling alerted him to the fact that hours has passed since he'd entered the records room. He looked at his watch and realized he should have punched out two hours ago. Shite – another black mark for his personnel file. He looked down at the list he'd compiled: all of the companies that he'd been able to connect to Lucius Malfoy in some way, however tangentially. The next step was to run down each of the (Harry counted) eighteen companies and compile a list of their real estate holdings, looking for two things: an abandoned building which might be a good place to hide a kidnaped girl, and a facility large enough to grow massive quantities of valerian mushrooms.

Harry sat back in his chair with a deep sigh, considering what he should do next. He was hungry, and he should go get something to eat. If he did that, he risked being seen by Snape and getting told off and sent home. Or, he risked being seen by Snape and being given a new assignment that would take him away from his present task. These next few hours may be the only ones he had to work this out. So he told his stomach to shut up, grabbed his parchment list, and headed toward the real estate records section.

Several more hours later, Harry had a list the length of his arm of parcels of real estate owned either outright by Lucius Malfoy or in which one of his companies had an interest. And several more hours later, he did something he'd never done before: he called out sick.

##########

Harry had spent the entire day going through his list of properties, one by one, checking them out as quickly as possible, knowing that Eliza was going onto her second day of captivity. He refused to acknowledge to himself that she might already be dead: he just knew she was alive, and he was going to do everything he could to find her. He was purposely keeping away from any means of communication so that no one could call him in and read him the riot act or reassign him elsewhere. He'd made it through three-quarters of his list before he forced himself to stop for something to eat since he hadn't had a bite all day.

He was working on two hours of sleep this morning, more cups of coffee than he could count, and a lone ham sandwich when he reached entry number 36 on his list. Immediately upon apparating, his spidey sense began to tingle, and his instincts were screaming at him that there was _something_ about this place. On high alert, Harry gripped his wand tighter and pulled his invisibility cloak out of his pocket. Before he took another step, he took stock of his surroundings.

He'd apparated some distance away from a chain link fence surrounding a large two-story warehouse. Weak street lamps lined the fence but didn't provide much light beyond the immediate circle of their illumination. Outwardly, it looked like a Muggle facility, but Harry used his wand to reveal the wards erected to keep people out. Harry hated most of the classes he'd been forced to attend during his shortened training, but he'd like warding and had really paid attention. Consequently, he was as skilled at erecting wards as he was dismantling them, and it didn't take him long to create a hole large enough to slip through. He could have completely taken the wards down, but it was possible someone was monitoring them, and taking them down would have alerted that someone that something was up. So he poked a small hole just big enough to slip through, then he patched the hole.

From under his cloak, Harry surveyed the premises. There appeared to be no one here, but Harry wasn't going to take anything for granted. He moved slowly toward the building, which was made of brick and appeared to have been here for at least a hundred years. When he got close to the building, he checked again for wards. Each of the windows and doors had a local ward, sort of like a burglar alarm, which would be triggered by any movement of said doors or windows.

Since Harry had to get inside, he chose a window on the side of the building away from the street and dismantled the ward. He slipped into the darkened room and did not reapply the ward. If he needed to get out quickly and silently, he wanted options.

Harry stood still once inside, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Once he could see dim shapes in the darkness, he cast a charm on his eyes to give him night vision. He scanned the room, which appeared to be a storage room of some sort. He was alone, and he crossed to the door. Checking for wards and finding none, Harry opened the door slowly, listening carefully, until he could poke his head out enough to see.

He was in a very large room. He guessed this was the main production area for whatever this place used to make. It, too, was empty, both of people and of anything else. There were several doors leading out of this room. The double doors at the end opposite where Harry stood, Harry guessed, led to the outside. The large service doors on the wall to his left also led outside. There were windows in the wall to his right, but no doors.

There was one door to Harry's right and three to his left. He decided to go right.

This door had heavy-duty wards, and it took Harry a bit longer to dismantle them. Suspecting that the serious wards meant something serious lay behind this door, he opened it slowly and quietly, to find a set of stairs, leading down.

Harry took the stairs slowly and found another door at the bottom, with similar wards on it. After dismantling them, Harry opened this door and gaped at what he saw. He was in a large room, larger by far than the one directly above it, eerily lighted by dim fluorescent-like lights on the ceiling, which seemed to go on for miles, and which contained row upon row of . . . something growing in trays. Harry saw no one here, and he approached a row of the low tables and examined the trays. Each tray contained a strange-looking log about three meters in length. Sprouting up and down each were several mushrooms, each the size of his fist. Harry had seen pictures and he knew what these were: valerian mushrooms. He reached in and broke one off its log and tucked it into a pocket of his robe. Because he'd never seen a tree like the one the mushrooms were growing on, he snapped off a piece of the log and tucked that away as well. Then, just to be thorough, he conjured a plastic bag, scooped some of the dirt the log rested on into it, and put that with everything else. This might be just what they needed to connect Lucius Malfoy to the Blue Dragon business.

Back to the matter at hand, though, and Harry turned his attention back to the room. There were no doors down here, other than the one he'd come through, and no windows, so Harry went back up the stairs to check out the other rooms. The next door he entered led to a bathroom. After ascertaining that it was empty, Harry continued on.

Jackpot. Harry opened the door slowly, glad that the man he found in this room had his back to the door. Raising his wand, he said, "Put your hands in the air. I have you covered." He didn't know if he was dealing with a wizard or a Muggle and figured that was a safe enough phrase.

_Wizard_, Harry's mind supplied as the man turned quickly to face him, raising his wand as he did so. He hadn't gotten it very high before Harry hit him with _stupefy_. The man was blasted across the room, crashed into the wall, and slumped to the floor.

Harry heard whimpering and redirected his attention to the other side of the room. A young girl, Eliza Godfrey, was seated on a sofa, a cloth gagging her mouth and her hands and ankles tied, her eyes wide.

"Is there anyone else here?" Harry asked quietly as he crossed to her.

Eliza shook her head "no." Harry removed the gag from her mouth. "I'm Harry Potter," he said. "I'm an auror. I've come to get you out of here. Are you all right?"

Eliza sobbed and nodded. Harry noticed bruises on her face and abrasions on her wrists where the ropes binding her had cut into her skin. He cut the ropes on her wrists and ankles with his wand. "Can you stand?"

Eliza did, launching herself into his arms, crying quietly. Harry held her tightly for a moment. "It's all right," he said. "You're safe now. I'm going to take you home."

Once Eliza had calmed enough to let him go, Harry said, "I don't know if there are anti-apparition wards here, but we're going to try to apparate out of here." He pulled her close again and tried to take them both away. Nothing happened.

"So much for the easy way," he said with a reassuring smile. "We'll have to go out the hard way. Here, you wear this." Harry flipped his invisibility cloak over Eliza's head, then gripped her hand through the cloth. "I don't want to lose you," he said. "Stay behind me."

Harry led the way back through the large room and into the storage room. He opened the window he'd come in through, and helped Eliza out. He followed her quickly, panicked a little when he couldn't find her, then began to breathe again when she took hold of his arm.

"All right. To the fence now," Harry said. "Once we're on the other side of the fence, we can apparate from there."

They crossed the open expanse as quickly as Eliza could manage. Harry opened another hole in the wards on the fence, bigger this time, and pulled Eliza through it. As soon as they'd cleared the fence, he apparated them to Eliza's front porch. He pulled the cloak from Eliza's head and tucked in into his pocket.

"Ready?"

"No. Wait! Is my step-father here?" Eliza asked anxiously.

"I don't know. Why?"

"It was his fault. He owes money to a drug dealer, and they took me until he pays his debt. They told him they were going to keep me for a week, and if he didn't pay, they were going to . . ."

"All right," Harry said soothingly. "I know your mum is terribly worried about you. How about if I go in first and see if he's here?"

Eliza nodded gratefully. Harry pulled his cloak out again and threw it over the girl one more time before knocking on the door.

"Harry!" Jeremiah Abbott said when he opened the door, obviously surprised to find the famous Harry Potter on the doorstep.

"Hey, Jeremiah. Is Mr. Gaston here?"

"No. The missus says he walked out this morning and hasn't come back yet. Why?"

Harry held an arm out for Eliza. When he felt her move into it, he pulled the cloak off. "Because Eliza wants to come home."

Jeremiah's jaw dropped. "You found her!"

"Can we come in? We probably shouldn't stay standing out in full view of everyone."

"Of course. Mrs. Gaston!" Jeremiah called over his shoulder. "Mrs. Gaston!"

Harry and Eliza stepped inside the house and closed the door. Mrs. Gaston came running, and when she saw her daughter, she stopped and covered her mouth with both hands. "Liza!"

"Mum!" Eliza said, and she started crying again.

"Oh my baby!" Mrs. Gaston said, and the two rushed toward each other, embracing tightly when they met.

Harry and Jeremiah watched them. "Where did you find her?"

"A warehouse in Manchester," Harry said, remembering the evidence he'd concealed in his pocket. He gave Jeremiah detailed instructions on where to find the building and suggested that a team be dispatched immediately to search it and confiscate what they would find there. "Eliza said her step-father is responsible for her kidnaping. He owes money to his drug dealer, and when he didn't pay, they took Eliza as incentive. You need to get a couple more aurors here, Jeremiah. If he comes back, he can't be allowed anywhere near her."

"I'll get right on it," Jeremiah promised. "This is great, Harry."

Harry smiled his agreement. "Look, it's been a really long day, and I need some sleep. I'll go in in the morning and make my reports. You're going to stay with the family for a while, right? The threat hasn't gone away."

"We will," Jeremiah promised. "Thanks, Harry."

Harry approached Liza and her mother. "I have to go," he said quietly, not wanting to interrupt their reunion, but also not wanting to leave without saying goodbye. "You two take care of each other. The aurors are going to stay with you for a bit. You should be perfectly safe here."

Mrs. Gaston turned to Harry. "Thank you just doesn't seem adequate," she said, "but it's all I have. God bless you, Mr. Potter."

Harry blushed a little. "Just doing my job," he said. "Eliza, you take care of yourself. She should probably be checked out in the morning," he said to Eliza's mother. "Just to be sure she's all right."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter," Eliza said.

When he left, Eliza and her mother were heading into the kitchen to get Liza something to eat. Harry debated going directly to the Ministry, but he was so damned tired, he didn't think about it for long before heading home.

#########

Harry had hardly walked through the door before he was being accosted by co-workers, slapping his back and offering words of praise for what he'd done last night. Apparently, news had already spread. He'd only just walked into the bullpen when he met Snape. "My office. Now," the man said.

"I haven't punched in yet, sir," Harry pointed out.

Snape glared down at him. "Do so, then."

Snape whirled and disappeared into his office. Harry drew in a bracing breath, went to the time clock to punch in, then presented himself as directed.

"Sit," Snape ordered, and Harry did so. He sat straight in the chair, waiting respectfully for Snape to begin.

"You were a busy boy last night."

"Yes, sir," Harry confirmed.

"First, let me say well done, for finding the girl and bringing her home to her family."

Harry waited, because he knew there must be a "second".

"Now perhaps you could explain what exactly you were doing."

"I had no current assignment," Harry said, trying to keep his voice even and professional and without any defensive tone. What he'd done had been entirely reasonable, and the results spoke for themselves. "I had a lead, so I decided that until I was given another assignment, I'd do what I could to assist the Crimes Against Children unit."

"How did you find her?"

"I put together a list of potential properties, and I visited them, one by one, until I found the location where Eliza was being held."

"How did you know you had the right place?" Snape asked, curious.

"I had a . . . feeling when I got there. Something just seemed . . . off."

"And you did not summon back up. Why?"

"I wasn't sure I needed it. It was just a feeling, after all." Harry could almost picture himself calling Snape at home last night and asking him to come out to an abandoned warehouse in Manchester because Harry had a _feeling_ something was wrong here.

Snape seemed to be considering the same thing as well, because he let it drop. "And you met with no resistance?"

"There was one man there. I took him by surprise. I don't think they were expecting anyone to find them. Did anyone go and pick him up?

Snape nodded. "He was gone when they arrived."

"And did they search the building?"

"It was empty."

"Empty?" Harry echoed, surprised. "Did they look in the basement?"

"I wasn't there, but I would imagine so."

Harry was stunned. How could they not have found the mushrooms?

"How did you put together the list of properties?" Snape wanted to know.

Harry looked at Snape for a moment before answering, not sure what Snape's reaction would be to what he was about to say. "Because of Beasley, I speculated that Lucius Malfoy was somehow involved. So I put together a list of the companies he had an interest in, and then a list of the properties he owned either personally or through those companies."

Snape sighed and sat back in his chair. "Not this again!"

"How can you argue his involvement, when I found her at one of his properties?" Harry asked incredulously.

"How many properties does Lucius Malfoy own, Potter?" Snape asked patiently, as though speaking with a particularly dense young child.

"Several, sir."

"You made the list. How many?" Snape pressed.

"Forty-seven."

"Did the possibility of coincidence not occur to you?" Snape asked. "Everyone in this building knows about your fixation with the Malfoys. You're not doing your career any favors pressing forward with this vendetta."

"My career," Harry snorted in disgust. It was becoming increasingly obvious that his career as an auror was not all that he'd imagined it would be. "And the aurors found nothing in the basement of that building?" he said, returning to his earlier dismay.

"Nothing. Why? What did you see there?"

Harry reached into his pocket and retrieved the mushroom he'd stored there. He tossed it onto Snape's desk, where it bounced once before coming to rest. Beside it, Harry tossed the piece of wood and the bag of dirt. Snape didn't need to pick these items up or investigate them any closer to know what this was.

"Valerian mushroom."

"There were rows and rows of them, going on forever. Well protected by wards."

"And where are they now?"

"I wouldn't know, sir. Some time after I left, their man obviously came to, alerted his superiors, and they cleaned the place out."

"They had less than two hours, Potter. Does that sound feasible to you?"

"Apparently so. It happened." Harry could tell from Snape's demeanor that he did not believe what Harry was telling him. What more did the man need?

Snape sighed. "Have you written your report yet?"

"No, sir. I was just about to do that."

"When you do, do not mention your conclusion that Lucius Malfoy is behind this," Snape recommended. "The fall-out will not be pleasant."

"You want me to bury this?" Harry asked incredulously.

"No. That is not what I'm asking. I am asking you to keep your conclusions out of the mix. Provide the facts only, let others do the investigating. If there is evidence there to convict anyone, let them do it."

"Even if it's Malfoy?" Harry challenged.

"Even if it's Malfoy," Snape agreed.

Harry didn't believe him. He didn't think Snape truly believed that his friend was involved in any of this, and he was trying to placate Harry. Harry was done being pushed aside and put down. "Are we finished, sir?" he asked. "I really should get those reports done."

Snape stared at the young man, for once not able to read anything in his countenance. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to do my job, sir," Harry told him. "Am I excused?"

Snape now knew that Harry was going to make this as difficult as possible. "Yes, you're excused," he said with a sigh of defeat.

Harry stood up and approached the door. He stopped when Snape said, "Potter," but he did not turn around.

"Don't throw away your career," Snape said.

"I'm not sure there's anything to throw away, sir," Harry said softly before he left the office.

##########

As predicted, Harry's report caused a maelstrom in the higher echelons of the Ministry, and he was called into the Minister's office thirty minutes after he submitted it. Snape was there, along with Blades and Arthur Weasley, and a man in fancy robes who was not introduced to Harry. He was pressed to retract his report, but he refused, politely but firmly. When Harry left the meeting, he was shaking with anger, and he knew his days with the Ministry were numbered.

##########

Harry paced his flat restlessly that evening. He faced big decisions regarding his future. His career with the Ministry was basically finished. He didn't think he'd actually be fired – they wouldn't want to risk alienating the populace by sacking the hero, after all. But it was clear that he would never be valued in his current position as anything other than some kind of overgrown mascot. So should he stick it out until he was completely miserable? Should he quit before that happened? If he did, what next? He'd never wanted to be anything but an auror. And could he stand the thought of not seeing Snape every day? After an hour of these thoughts going round and round in his head, Harry did what he always did when he had a dilemma he couldn't solve – he flooed to Hermione.

##########

Hermione had been her usual analytical self, helping Harry to sort through the myriad emotions and ideas and thoughts swirling in his brain. When he left her and Ron an hour or so later, he hadn't made any decisions, but he was beginning to feel as though there may be a path through this maze. He needed a few more days to get his thoughts squared away, then he intended to have a long discussion with Snape.

Harry felt much lighter than he had in days, and he decided to walk home. It was less than half a kilometer and the night was fine, and he could use the exercise. He turned the corner onto his street. Maybe when he got home he'd open up that new tin of cat treats for Boris. _After _they had that discussion about sharpening claws on the sofa.

Harry's thoughts were halted suddenly by a tremendous boom, a noise so loud that the street shook under his feet. In horror, Harry realized that the explosion had come from his building. Fire and smoke billowed immediately from the top floor. Before he even knew he was moving, Harry was sprinting down the street, toward the now burning building.

When Harry reached the building, he was relieved to see the Martinsons and the Rasmussens, the tenants in the two first-floor flats, standing on the street, looking up at the building in shock and dismay. Harry joined the small group they'd made, asked them quickly if they were all right, then stood looking helplessly up at his home, his mind reeling, wondering if anyone was still inside. Joe Slater, the tenant in 2A worked nights.

"Does anyone know if Joe went to work tonight?" he queried.

Shari Martinson spoke up. "I saw him leave. I spoke to him on his way out."

"And Kevin's in Egypt," Harry said. The other second floor flat was currently empty, it's tenant having been posted out of the country by his employer on a short-term basis. That left only the Browns, the older couple who lived in the basement flat and who acted as property managers for the building. "Has anyone see the Browns?"

No one had. "Has someone called for help?" Harry asked over his shoulder as he began to run toward the building. He didn't wait for an answer – he assumed if no one had yet, they would do so now.

Harry entered the building. There was no smoke or fire visible in the lobby. He pounded down the stairs and knocked loudly on the Browns' front door. When they opened the door, it was obvious that they'd both been sleeping. "There's a fire in the building!" Harry informed them. "You need to get out now!"

Frightened and disoriented, it took a few moments for Harry to chivy them out and up the stairs. Once he'd seen them safely out, he turned around and started running up the stairs to the second floor. Maybe there was still time to get to Boris. When he reached the second floor landing, Harry stopped long enough to send his patronus bounding off to the Weasleys with a message.

Harry got only half-way up the stairs to the third floor before being driven back by a wall of heat and smoke. He considered for a moment using some kind of charm to get him through the heat and into the flat, but he knew in his heart that it was hopeless – there was no way that Boris could have survived the explosion and the ensuing fire. It was likely that he'd been killed instantly. Harry stared up at the fire destroying everything he owned with a mixture of disbelief and extreme sadness. He started to cough and knew that he had to get out of here before it was too late. Tears streamed down his face, leaving tracks in the soot that had accumulated there, as he ran back down the stairs.

##########

Two hours later, Harry stood in front of his building speaking with a fire fighter. The fire had been completely extinguished, and preliminary investigation of the scene revealed a single incendiary device had been placed in the topmost flat (Harry's). The blast had gone upwards, which meant that the flats on the second floor had sustained damage, but were fixable. The flats on the first floor had sustained only smoke and water damage, and the flat in the basement had been untouched. Unfortunately, Harry's flat was completely gone. What the explosion hadn't taken directly, the ensuing fire had consumed, and the three-story building had been reduced to one and a half.

Harry was running on autopilot, most of him unable to believe and process what had happened here tonight. Everything he owned was gone – his cat, his clothing, his furniture, his father's invisibility cloak, the scrapbook with his parent's pictures – all gone. Ron and Hermione were waiting for him to finish with the authorities so they could take him home. Harry felt as though he was going to drop any moment – he was exhausted and dirty and heartsick, and he wanted to crawl some place safe and quiet and sleep forever.

##########

Snape jumped out of the taxi and threw some currency at the driver. They'd gotten as close to the scene of the fire as they could – the street had been blocked off by fire trucks and police vehicles. He'd received notification from the Ministry that there'd been an explosion at Potter's residence. That was it: no explanation as to what had happened, or whether Potter had been at home at the time, or even whether the boy was still alive. He couldn't stay at home – he had to know. He wasn't sure where he could apparate to, so he'd hailed a taxi and implored the driver to get here as quickly as possible.

As he raced toward Potter's building, he scanned the street, and he was immensely relieved to spot Potter, currently in consult with officials. The boy looked like he'd been through hell: he was sooty, his face was streaked, and he was clearly distraught. Snape looked around at the chaotic scene, but he could see nothing that would tell him whether there had been any fatalities here. There were medical rescue vehicles, but they could have been here for treatment of smoke inhalation or for the firefighters.

He stood on the sidewalk watching Harry for a time. He wanted very badly to go to the boy and offer whatever comfort he could, and he'd talked himself into doing that, but before he could move any closer, Harry finished with the authorities. He turned away and was immediately met by a hug from a bushy-haired female. A tall red-headed male put an arm around both of them, and the three of them turned away from Snape and began to walk away.

Snape sighed. Potter was in good hands. He poked around the scene for a time, trying to overhear anything about what had occurred here tonight, but he left forty minutes later no more well informed than when he had arrived.

##########

Harry was met immediately upon entering the bullpen by Snape, almost as though the man had been laying in wait for him. Harry looked like a homeless person: he was wearing a pair of jeans and a plaid flannel button-down shirt which belonged to Ron and which were four sizes too large for him, along with a beat-up pair of trainers. He hadn't had a lot of choices: with the exception of the clothes he'd been wearing at the time of the explosion, all of his things had been destroyed. He clearly needed to go shopping, but that would have to wait until tonight.

"Potter," Snape said quietly. "How are you? You look . . ."

"I know," Harry said quickly. "I'm not in uniform, and I look like a vagabond. I'll go up to uniforms first thing and get new robes. Please accept my apologies, sir."

"Apologies are not required. I was not worried about your uniform," Snape assured him. "I was going to say that you look like you have not slept. Are you all right?"'

Harry _hadn't _slept a lot last night, and he had large dark circles to prove it. "I'm fine, sir," he assured the man.

"Are you sure you should be here?"

"Where else would I be?" Harry asked, confused.

Snape stared down at him for a moment. "Come into my office," he ordered. Once they were both seated, Snape continued, "You have sustained a loss, Potter. If you need to deal with it, you should take all the time you need."

"No, I'm good. Not a lot I can do, actually."

"What happened?"

"How did you even know that something _had _happened?" Harry questioned.

"Floo call, from the Ministry last night. Word travels, as you should well know. Answer the question."

"I don't know what happened. They told me there was some kind of explosive device, set on a timer. It exploded. There's no question that this was an accident."

"Someone tried to kill you," Snape stated.

"It appears so, sir," Harry responded calmly. "If I hadn't decided to go see Ron and Hermione on the spur of the moment, I would have been there when . . . when it happened."

"How fortuitous. Were there any injuries to the other tenants?"

"No, thankfully. No one was home on the second floor. The first-floor tenants had made it out before I even got back there. The old couple downstairs was sleeping at the time, but they got out all right, too. We were all very lucky."

"You have lost everything," Snape noted quietly.

"Yes," Harry agreed, emotion welling up inside him at the thought. "Most of it can be replaced, but . . . the pictures I had of my parents . . . my dad's invisibility cloak . . . Boris." He voice broke on this last word, and he felt tears in his eyes which he was determined to keep there.

"I am so sorry, Harry," Snape said sincerely.

Harry smiled weakly. "Thank you, sir."

"Are the Muggle authorities investigating who is behind this?"

"Yes. But they won't find him," Harry said with certainty.

Snape studied Harry for a moment before asking, "Do you know who did this?"

Harry stared back at Snape. Yes, he knew who did this, but he also knew that Snape would not believe him. "I've an idea. Nothing I can prove yet."

And of course, Snape knew exactly what Harry was thinking. He would not indulge the boy's delusions any further by pursuing that line of thought. He cleared his voice. "If you need anything, I hope you will let me know."

"Sure," Harry agreed, though Snape was pretty sure he'd be the last person Harry would go to if he _did _need something. Which was Snape's own fault, not Harry's, he knew. "Can I go now, sir? I really need to see about getting a new uniform."

"Certainly," Snape agreed. "I shouldn't have to tell you to watch your back, should I?"

"I'll be careful, sir. Thank you."

And Harry got up and left.

##########

Harry had been back at his desk for only five minutes when he was once again being summoned to Snape's office. Now what? he wondered as he made his way there.

"Got the new robes," Harry said, raising his arms to show off his brand new auror robes.

"Yes, I see," Snape said, clearly upset about something. "Please sit down."

Harry did, instantly nervous. What had he done? "What have I done now, sir?"

"You haven't done a thing. I . . . have something to tell you. I wish I didn't have to. This is the last thing you need, on top of everything else."

Harry was beginning to get anxious. "Has something happened to Ron or Hermione?"

"No," Snape said, "your friends are fine. It is Eliza Godfrey." Snape stopped, apparently unable to continue.

"Eliza? What about her?"

"She and her mother . . . they're both dead."

What?! "_What?_ They can't be dead. I just saw them yesterday. There must be some mistake."

"I wish that there were. Aurors found them in their home when they went back to question Eliza more about her experience. It appears as though they were both victims of the killing curse. They were found at their table, with school books before them, as though they were caught during a lesson."

"Liza was home schooled," Harry muttered, remembering. He looked up at Snape, his eyes filled with despair. "You're sure about this?"

"Yes. I am sorry."

"I don't understand. Who did this?"

"I don't know. There will be an investigation, of course."

"I want in."

"No," Snape said firmly. "You are too close to this. You will stay away. And I mean it – you will actually stay away this time. Is that clear?"

Harry had to move, and he jumped up from his chair. Snape's office was too small for proper pacing, but Harry gave it his best. Snape watched the agitated young man stride back and forth.

Finally, Harry stopped, his back to Snape, all of the energy seeming to leave his body at once. He dropped his chin to his chest, and he knew that tears were leaking from his eyes, but he didn't care. She was only fifteen. She had her whole life ahead of her. She'd just been rescued from a horrendous experience, and she should have been safe at home, recovering in the loving arms of her mother. Instead, they both were dead, and it didn't take a genius to conclude that they'd been killed by whoever had taken Eliza so that she couldn't identify the culprit.

Harry hadn't heard Severus come up behind him, but suddenly the man was there. "Harry . . ." he said, then stopped.

"I don't think I can do this any more," Harry whispered. He looked up at Snape, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Snape's heart was breaking for the young man. He'd been through so much recently, and it was obviously all catching up with him. Knowing it was probably the wrong move but unable to stop himself, Snape put an arm around Harry's shoulders and squeezed encouragingly. "You are having a rough stretch," he said. "Don't make any hasty decisions."

Harry rested his head on Snape's shoulder for a moment, then pulled away from him. He couldn't allow himself to take any more solace from the man. "Am I going to get an assignment?"

Snape dropped his arm. "Things are a bit hectic at the moment. I continue to feel it would be better if you went home." Snape regretted that the moment the word came out of his mouth.

"I haven't got one of those any longer," Harry said sadly. "I want to work. I need to work. Find me something to keep me busy. Sir."

"I will see what I can do," Snape promised.

##########

Harry was on his way back to his desk when he stopped in his tracks. Minister Shacklebolt was here, and with him was Lucius Malfoy and the man in the fancy robes who had been at the meeting yesterday. Harry actually felt his reason leaving him as the edges of his vision turned red. Things might have turned out differently if the Minister hadn't approached Harry, intent on offering his condolences and the assistance of the Ministry in Harry's time of need, Lucius Malfoy close behind. But he did, and before the man could even open his mouth to speak, Harry attacked.

"What's _he_ doing here?" he asked, his voice low and aggressive, his body coiled tightly, as though he was going to spring at any moment.

Minister Shacklebolt was visibly taken aback. "Harry . . ." he started to say.

Harry ignored him and turned on Malfoy. "You don't belong here. This is a place where laws are enforced."

Malfoy sneered down his aristocratic nose at Harry. "I have no idea what you're implying, Mr. Potter, but I suggest that you restrain yourself."

"You are a criminal," Harry accused, his voice rising. "You belong in Azkaban!"

"Harry . . ." Kingsley tried again.

"And you!" Harry said, rounded on the Minister. "How can you let him in here, after what he's done?" Everyone in the bullpen was openly staring at the three men now. Hearing the commotion from his office, Snape hurried into the bullpen and made a beeline for Potter, hoping to keep the boy from throwing everything away.

But Harry was not to be deterred. "You've let him buy his way into your pocket, and you're too blinded by his gold to see that, except for the fact he dresses better, he's no better than the scum we scrape up off the streets every day."

"Harry, really, I must insist that you get control of yourself," Kingsley said, his famous patience beginning to wear thin. "I understand that you have been through a difficult time lately, but . . ."

"And whose fault is that?" Harry yelled.

Snape had made it to Harry's side by now, and he took the young man by the arm, intent on pulling the hotheaded youth away from this career-ending confrontation. Harry shook his hand off. He took a step toward Lucius Malfoy, whose wand came up immediately.

"There!" Harry said. "You see? Civilians aren't allowed in here with wands! How is it _he's _allowed to keep his?" Harry challenged the Minister. "I guess if you have enough money, you can keep even the most honorable of men in your pocket."

"Potter!" Snape growled. "Shut up!"

"No," Harry said. "I'm tired of keeping my mouth shut about this piece of rubbish." He turned on Malfoy. "You've gone too far this time. You are going to pay!"

"Harry," Kingsley said, his rich voice low and commanding. "Go home. Now."

"I don't _have _a home!" Harry shouted. "Thanks to him!"

"You are suspended, effectively immediately," Kingsley stated. "Without pay. The only reason I'm not firing you outright, Harry, is that I know what you've been through recently. But this behavior is unacceptable. You will leave now, and you will leave quietly, or I will reconsider my forbearance and have you escorted from the premises permanently."

It appeared as though Harry had more to say, but Snape had had enough. He grabbed Harry's arm again, put a hand over the boy's mouth, and forcefully dragged him out into the hallway. "Out, Potter!" he growled in the boy's ear. He pushed Potter away from him. "Get out of here before you ruin your life."

Harry stormed away without looking back.

##########

Harry had gone directly to Ron and Hermione's. Neither was home, of course, and he was so angry he couldn't stay still. He grabbed Ron's broom and some supplies and took to the sky. He flew for hours, until his hands were stiff and numb from having gripped the broomstick for so long. He'd flown so long and so far he didn't even know where he was, and he finally landed in a small field beside a road which more closely resembled a cart path. He was hungry and tired and felt beaten down by life. He sat down under a large tree and pulled out the sandwich he'd fixed before leaving and a bottle of water and ate his supper in the waning light of the day.

It was quiet here, and peaceful, and Harry sat and listened to the crickets until well after dark. Giving in to the fatigue he'd been fighting, he stretched out on the ground, laced his hands behind his head, and stared up at the stars until he fell asleep.

##########

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed when Harry walked into her kitchen. "Where have you been?"

"I went out flying and lost track of time," Harry said. "Sorry if you worried. I didn't have a very good day at work yesterday, and I needed to work off some stress."

"But you've been gone all night!"

"I know. I fell asleep." He could see that she was nearly beside herself with what he thought was worry over the fact that he hadn't come home last night. "I'm sorry, love."

"Harry . . . your boss floo called this morning," Hermione said.

Harry could tell by her demeanor that something was wrong. "Blades, or Snape?"

"Blades."

"Oh, the _big_ boss. That can't be good. What did he want?" Harry picked up an apple and crunched into it – he hadn't had any breakfast.

"He was looking for you. You must have told them you were staying with us." Harry nodded his confirmation of that. "He didn't say why, but . . ."

"But . . ." Harry prompted.

"But Ron got a floo call from his father. Harry . . . Lucius Malfoy was killed last night."

Harry sat heavily in a kitchen chair. Lucius Malfoy . . . dead? Harry wasn't sure how to feel. He truly believed that Malfoy was evil and would kill his own grandmother if she stood in the way of him making a galleon. But he had never wished the man dead, only confined to Azkaban, where he deserved to be. Where did this leave his investigation into Eliza's murder, and the drugs, and the destruction of his flat? Harry's thoughts were spinning, but the next words out of Hermione's mouth brought them all to a screeching halt.

"They want to talk to you, Harry. Arthur said you had a confrontation with Malfoy yesterday?"

"Wait a minute," Harry said. "Do they think . . . am I a suspect?"

"It sounded like it," Hermione said, wringing her hands. "What happened yesterday?"

"Eliza was killed. I told you about Eliza. She was kidnaped because her step-father owed money for drugs. I found her at a warehouse that one of Lucius Malfoy's companies owned. Two days after I returned her to her mother, both she and her mother were murdered in their home. I filed a report that contained my suspicion that Lucius Malfoy was behind her kidnaping and the murder and that he's responsible for Blue Dragon crisis. I think the accusations in my report made Malfoy nervous, and I think he tried to kill me in my flat."

Hermione stared at him after this recitation.

"You think I'm delusional, too, don't you?" Harry challenged.

"Do you hear yourself, Harry?" Hermione asked quietly. "You're blaming Malfoy for everything. You have to realize how paranoid that sounds."

"I don't care how it sounds. I can't prove it yet, but everything I've said is true."

"You didn't tell me what happened yesterday."

"Malfoy was in the office, strutting around like he owned the place. I'd just learned about Eliza. I lost it a little bit, I guess. I confronted Malfoy, asked him what he was doing there. Told him he had no right."

"Did you threaten him?"

"No. I _did _tell him he would pay."

"You didn't!"

"I didn't mean I was going to kill him! I only meant that I would find the evidence to bring charges against him, and that he would finally be sent to prison, where he belongs."

"You have to realize how it sounds, though. What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to find the evidence I need to prove him guilty. I don't care if he's dead – the crimes he's committed are going to come back to haunt him. His victims deserve at least that much."

"You should have a lawyer with you when you go in this morning. I'm coming with you."

"Hermione, you're an estates and trusts lawyer. Besides, I'm not going in," Harry announced.

"What? Harry, you have to!"

"No, I don't. I'm not going in. I know how it works. If they're looking for me, if they think I'm a suspect . . . They've made up their minds, and if I go in there, they're going to keep me. I can't prove where I was last night. I was alone. I'm an auror, Hermione. I know what happens to people with no alibis."

"Harry, this isn't going to help."

"I know what I'm doing, Hermione. But I'm not going to put you and Ron in the middle of this. I'll get my stuff and clear out before they come looking for me."

"Where will you go?"

"I don't know. That's not important." Harry kissed Hermione's cheek and left the room. Within five minutes, he was back, his few possessions packed away in his pockets. He still hadn't been shopping, and he still had no wardrobe at all. "Thank you for everything. Try not to worry. I'll be in touch when I can." And he was gone.

##########

Angus Blades and Severus Snape sat in Blades' office, quietly contemplating the mess facing them. Evidence in the Lucius Malfoy murder was already coming in. Malfoy had been discovered dead at 11:30 last evening by his wife, who was returning to the country from a visit to France. She'd arranged to meet her husband at one of the flats they owned in London, and when she arrived, she found her husband's lifeless body, laying in a pool of blood, in the sitting room.

A magical autopsy revealed that Malfoy had died of a single bullet wound to the chest. The fatal shot had been delivered a short distance from the victim. Death was not instantaneous – Malfoy had likely lain there up to an hour, bleeding out, until death arrived for him. The medical examiner had fixed the time of death at 9:00 p.m. the preceding evening. He'd been shot some time between thirty and sixty minutes prior to his death.

As soon as the news began to spread, everyone who'd heard Harry's confrontation with Malfoy yesterday immediately began to wonder if Harry had made good on his threat to make Malfoy pay. Blades immediately began trying to contact Auror Potter, and so far had been unsuccessful in tracking the boy down. He'd told them he was staying at the Weasleys since the destruction of his flat, and Ron Weasley had confirmed that, but told him that he hadn't seen Harry since yesterday morning before he'd left for work.

"This isn't looking good, Severus," Blades noted.

"You can't actually believe he did this," Snape said.

"Well, I'd certainly like to talk to him about it, but he seems to have disappeared. At this moment, no one can tell us where he was last night, and until we know that, we have to assume he has no alibi. He had a very public confrontation with the victim yesterday, in front of a room full of aurors. For all I know, he owns a gun. That's means, motive _and _opportunity, Severus."

"It's all speculation."

"It certainly is. And it will remain so until he comes in and answers some questions. If you have any idea where he might be, and if you think you can influence him at all, you should reach out to him and tell him to come in. The longer he stays away, the worse he's going to make it for himself."

Snape thought that a month ago, he probably would have had a great deal of influence over Harry Potter. The boy's insane crush had left him strangely craving Snape's approval. But that was likely a thing of the past now. Too much water had passed under that bridge.

A knock on the door had Blades barking, "Enter!"

A young auror whose name Snape couldn't remember opened the door. "Sir, sorry to interrupt." He glanced quickly at Severus. "I searched Potter's desk, as you requested. Found this."

He handed a sheet of parchment over Blades' desk, and the Senior Auror looked down at it. He studied it quietly for a moment, then looked up at the young man in his doorway. "Thank you, Andrews. That'll be all."

After Andrews had gone, Blades handed the parchment across to Severus.

"What is this?" Snape asked as he took the parchment, instantly recognizing Potter's scrawl.

"It looks like a list of real property in which Malfoy had an interest. The flat he was killed in is on there."

Snape looked down at the parchment, then back up at Blades. "This doesn't prove a thing. You know that he was looking for the girl, and he put this list together then."

"It doesn't look good, Severus. I hate to do this, but I'm going to have to put Potter on leave until this is straightened out."

"Is that really necessary?"

"Yes, I'm afraid it is, because I'm also issuing a warrant for his arrest."

"Sir, please, that's premature!" Snape protested. "Give him a chance to come in on his own."

"He lost that chance when he didn't show up for work this morning. Find him, Severus. For his own safety."

##########

Harry was beginning to realize how desperate his position was becoming. He had money,

but no way to get to Gringotts to access it. He'd tried going to Diagon Alley with a hastily-patched together disguise, but nearly the first thing he'd seen (thankfully) had been a poster with his photo, the words WANTED FOR ARREST printed in bold above and below in large letters. He'd apparated away before anyone had seen him, back to his lonely meadow, not a knut richer than when he'd left.

Harry sat down under his tree, munching on the apple that represented the last of his food, and reviewed his options. He had two galleons in his pocket, no food, his flat had been destroyed, and his friends were off limits, for their own protection. He needed to investigate Lucius Malfoy, both his life and his death, but he'd been suspended from the job which would have provided him with easy access to information to assist him in that regard, and he no longer had an invisibility cloak which would have made poking around on his own so much easier.

So basically, his options were . . . non-existent.

Harry sighed and looked up at the sky as a gentle rain began to fall on him. "You, too?"

##########

Severus was five minutes from retiring when a soft knock sounded on his door. Who could that be at this time of night? He certainly wasn't expecting anyone. He belted the sash tightly on his dressing gown and cracked the door enough to see who was in the hall.

Shock would have been an adequate descriptor of what he felt when he saw Harry Potter standing there. Torn between yanking the fugitive inside and drawing his wand and cuffing him, he could only get out, "Potter!"

"Hi," Harry said, looking around him nervously. "I'm sorry to come here at this time of night. Looks like you were going to bed. I've kind of got nowhere else to go. Could I come inside?"

Still keeping both options open, Snape opened the door wider, and Harry passed inside gratefully. Snape closed the door softly behind him and locked it. To keep everyone out? Or to keep Harry in?

Snape turned to face his visitor. The boy, frankly, looked like hell. He looked thin and dirty and tired and worried and underfed and stressed. Before he made any decisions about Potter's future, he could take care of a couple of those things. "Come and sit," he ordered gruffly, leading Potter to the kitchen. While Harry sat at the table, Snape warmed the leftover curry from tonight's dinner and retrieved the half a loaf of crusty bread from last night's dinner and set them on the table. Harry fell to eating with the purposefulness of a stray dog. Snape poured a large glass of water and set it on the table beside Harry.

When Harry had finished eating, he drank down the water and sat back in the chair. "Thank you."

"I believe I have some old biscuits around here somewhere, if you are still hungry."

"No. I'm good for now." Harry sat quietly for a moment. "I didn't do it. You know that, right?"

"I do not think it wise that we discuss any of this. You are in serious, serious trouble, Potter. I strongly advise you to leave here and take yourself directly to headquarters and turn yourself in. Explain yourself to them. Let the system do its work."

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "Malfoy's bought off too many people. There's no way I'll get a fair shake in there. I came here to ask you to help me. I need to be able to investigate Malfoy back to front, and I've got no resources right now. I know it's asking a lot. I know you'd be risking your job. But I've got no one else to turn to. Can you help me?" Harry asked, and his desperation was plainly obvious on his face.

"Harry," Snape started. "You are only making matters worse by not facing up to this now. There is a warrant out for your arrest. It is only a matter a time before you are seen and brought in. Turning yourself in will go a long way toward establishing your innocence."

"No, it won't. I know how this works, Severus. I _am_ the system, remember? I've used that line myself more times than I can count." Harry stood up quickly. "Thanks for the food. It's much appreciated. I'm sorry I bothered you. I'll just go now."

Snape stood up as well. "No, please. It is your call. I think you are making a mistake, but I will respect your decision. I will do what I can to help you. But you look as though you need sleep more than anything else right now. Stay here with me. You can shower and stay in the guest room. Tomorrow morning, we will discuss options and where we go from here."

Harry's shoulders slumped in relief. He really hadn't known what he would do if Snape turned him out. He was ashamed at how much he was looking forward to a hot shower and a real bed. And maybe those old biscuits later. He smiled, so great his relief that tears weren't far from his eyes. "Thank you. I didn't know where else to go."

"You came to the right place, Harry," Snape assured him. "The shower is this way."

##########

Harry stretched languorously in Snape's guest bed. He'd slept really well last night. The weight lifted from his shoulders by coming here and having Snape agree to help him had relieved a great deal of the stress he'd been under. He knew that with he and Snape working together, they would crack what was going on here in no time. Today looked a whole lot brighter than yesterday had. Hungry again, Harry got out of the comfy bed and traipsed to the loo. After a long and satisfying piss, he washed his hands, ran his hands through his hair, which looked like he'd slept on it wet (which he had), and left the bathroom to find out what was for breakfast.

He stepped into Snape's small living room and froze. Severus, Blades and two other aurors stood looking back at him. Flight instinct kicking in immediately, Harry turned to retrieve his bag from the guest room, intent on apparating out of here.

"Harry, don't," Severus said.

Harry hadn't taken a step before a third auror stepped out of the guest room, Harry's bag held tightly in his hand and his wand pointed at Harry. Screw the bag, Harry thought, and he tried to leave without it. Everyone else in the room knew that apparition out of here was currently impossible. Harry didn't know, but he quickly learned. He was now, totally, out of options.

"Severus?" Harry asked, eyes only for the person he'd thought was going to help him, but who apparently had betrayed him the moment he'd turned his back. Snape saw the betrayal there, and it broke his heart, but he was firmly convinced that he'd done the right thing.

"I told you I thought you were making a mistake," Snape said. "I'm going to help you fix it. Trust me, Harry."

That wasn't likely to happen ever again, and Harry turned his back on Severus, facing Blades. "Let's get this over with."

His former boss approached him, regret for what he had to do obvious on his stern features. "Harry Potter, you are under arrest for suspicion of the murder of Lucius Malfoy. You are advised that you have the right to remain silent, but that your silence may be considered an admission of your guilt. You have the right to have counsel present with you when you are questioned. If you cannot afford counsel, the Ministry will appoint someone for you. Do you understand these rights as I have explained them to you?"

"I do," Harry said.

"I'm sorry to have to do this, Potter, but it's procedure. You understand."

"Yeah, I understand," Harry said, and he put his own hands behind his back, wrists together.

Severus stepped up, determined to do the dirty job himself, but Harry growled, "No. Anyone but him."

Blades pulled Harry's hands apart and moved them to the front of Harry's body. He signaled to one of the aurors to step forward, and Harry's hands were magically cuffed in front of him. His magic was now restricted: he was completely unable to apparate from anywhere. Blades removed Harry's coat from the hook beside the door and placed it over Harry's cuffed hands. To all the world, Harry would look as though he were simply taking a stroll with his mates. If Harry wasn't feeling as though the bottom had dropped out of his world due to Severus' perfidy, he might have appreciated this act of consideration. As it was, stomach heaving and heart broken, he let himself be led docilely away.

##########

Harry had been escorted into the Ministry with as little fanfare as possible. Word had spread quickly, though, once he was here, and as he sat in an interrogation room, both hands shackled to a magic-restricting bar on the table in front of him, he was aware of the stream of faces peering in at him through the small window in the door, as though he was a rare and fascinating exhibit at the local zoo. He kept his head up, his eyes forward, ignoring them all. He was ordering in his head what he would tell whoever came in here to ask him questions. He hoped it was Blades himself – Blades might actually listen. He desperately hoped they didn't send Snape in here – he had no intention of speaking to Severus Snape ever again. What the man had done to him, turning him in like that, could never be forgiven. Finally, the stupid crush that Harry had been nursing for years was gone, having died a quiet but painful death on the floor of Snape's sitting room this morning.

There was only one other auror that Harry wanted to see less than Snape. His heart sunk further when that very man entered the room, closed the door quietly behind him, and stood leaning against the door, staring balefully at Harry.

Surely they weren't going to let Draco Malfoy interrogate the suspect accused of killing his father.

"Potter," Malfoy sneered. "Finally. Right where you belong."

Harry looked away from Draco, but he couldn't help but hear when Draco closed the blinds covering the window in the door, closing the two of them off from view of the traffic in the hallway. He felt and heard Malfoy approach the table, and he couldn't help but jump when Draco banged a hand down onto the table.

"You killed my father."

"No, I didn't," Harry said quietly, knowing that there was nothing he could say that Draco Malfoy would believe.

"I'm not here to debate with you, Potter. I just wanted to come and see the high and mighty Harry Potter, shackled like the common criminal he is. I wanted to make you aware that I will not rest until I see you sentenced to Azkaban for this. The prosecutor will be asking for the death penalty, and I can't tell you how much I look forward to being there when they administer the kiss."

Malfoy came around to Harry's other side, so that Harry would have to look at him. "Look at my face, Potter," he ordered. "This will be the last thing you see before your soul is sucked from your body. I wonder, will you be able to find your sainted mudblood mother if you have no soul?"

"I didn't touch your despicable father, Malfoy," Harry forced out through gritted teeth.

Harry saw the punch coming, but with his hands fixed to the table, there was nothing he could do to block it, and Draco's fist caught him square on the lip, splitting it open and causing blood to run immediately. Harry grunted in pain but otherwise didn't react, so Draco hit him again, this time directly beneath the left eye. Harry's eye swelled instantly, limiting his vision to the right side.

"I could kill you right now," Draco hissed, "before anyone could come in here and stop me. But I'd rather watch your blessed life go down the loo slowly, so I'm going to leave you with this." Draco used both hands to grab two handfuls of Harry's hair in a painful grip that held him in place when Draco slammed his forehead into Harry's nose. Blood spurted from Harry's broken nose as stars exploded behind his eyes. Draco fucking Malfoy had broken his nose again.

Harry was in too much pain to hear Draco leave, but when he was able to see again moments later, he found himself alone. Bleeding profusely from his nose and his lip, Harry tipped his head forward so that the blood wouldn't run down his throat, making a mess of himself and the table in front of him, and waited for someone to come.

##########

Several minutes passed until someone else came into the room. First through the door was Severus Snape. Harry turned his back on the man. He'd cross his arms if they weren't currently attached to the table. Snape had a folder in his hand, and he threw it onto the table before sitting in the chair across from Harry. He opened the folder, perused it briefly, then looked up at Harry.

His jaw dropped when he saw the state Potter was in. "What has happened to you?" he asked.

Harry's only answer was to turn further away.

"Who came in here?" Silence still. "Why will you not tell me?"

"Like you care!" Harry spit out, licking at the cut on his lip, which continued to seep blood. The flow of blood from his nose had slowed to an annoying trickle.

"I know that you are angry with me," Snape said. "But you were throwing your life away. And I could stop it, so I did. I know that you did not do this. You will prove your innocence, and you will have your life back."

"Save it," Harry said. "And you might as well go, because I have no intention of answering any question you have."

Severus sighed at the young man's stubbornness. "Let me help you."

"Yesterday, I was free, and my face was whole. I think you've helped enough, thanks."

Severus opened his mouth to at least attempt to question Potter – despite his assertion that he wouldn't speak to Severus, he'd already said plenty. Maybe he could goad the boy into answering his questions. He couldn't help if he didn't know the answer to some basic questions. But before he could speak, the door banged open and Hermione Granger barged into the room.

"Don't answer any questions, Harry!" she announced. Then she caught sight of Harry's face, and she turned on Severus. "What have you done?"

"I have done nothing," Severus proclaimed. "Potter was perfectly fine when I placed him in this room, and when I returned, he looked like that. He has refused to tell me who did this to him."

"Harry?" Hermione questioned, crossing the room to get a closer look at his injuries.

"Doesn't matter," Harry said.

"Of course it matters!" Hermione protested. She rounded on Severus again. "He is obviously not safe here! I demand that he be released immediately!"

"You know that is not possible," Severus said. "He is being charged with murder. He will not just be released on his own recognizance."

"I want a few minutes to talk with Harry," Hermione bargained. "And then I want him to receive the medical attention that you should have gotten for him already. After that, I will let you know whether he is willing to answer questions, or whether he will be retaining his right to remain silent."

Severus knew that he had little choice. He would have preferred that Potter remain unrepresented, because attorneys only complicated matters. He was sure that he could get Potter to open up and work with him, but that would be impossible now. He closed his file folder. "I will step out into the hall, and I will request that a healer be brought over from St. Mungo's. Take all the time you need to converse."

"Thank you. Can we get him uncuffed?"

"That is against protocol."

"Right." They all knew that prisoners were released frequently in an attempt to gain their cooperation. If there was something to be gained by it, Harry would be released. Now that he had a lawyer, there was no longer any incentive for the aurors to make him more comfortable.

As soon as Severus had left the room, Hermione hugged Harry. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Hermione. You need to get me out of here. I can't figure out what's happened if I'm stuck inside here."

"Slow down," Hermione advised. "I can't represent you. You know that. But I have a colleague who has experience in criminal matters, and he's going to come down and take over. There are only two things I want you to worry about right now. I want you to tell me who did this to you," she said, gently fingering his swollen-shut eye.

"Does it make any real difference?"

"It might. We can use it in our argument that you will not be safe being held here. Was it another auror?"

Harry nodded once.

"It was Draco Malfoy, wasn't it?" It wasn't difficult to figure out. It was Draco's father that had been killed. Draco and Harry had a long history of animosity. Draco was just the type of person who would take advantage of Harry's compromised state to get himself a little revenge, for real or imagined slights.

Harry nodded again. He was quite surprised that Severus hadn't guessed that as well. Perhaps he had and the man was just trying to press Harry's buttons.

"All right. Thank you for telling me. The other thing that I need you to do is be patient and trust in someone else to help you."

"I trusted Severus," Harry muttered. "And look where that got me."

"I'm not Severus, thank you very much." Although she did agree that Harry should have turned himself in right away, she knew that the other man's betrayal had to have hurt Harry deeply. "Once Orson gets here, we're going to press for an arraignment this afternoon. We'll argue that you're not safe here, and you should be released on house arrest."

"I have no house, Hermione."

"We'll see if they'll let you come home with me. First things first, though. If they're willing to let you out on those terms, you'll have to convince them that you can abide by the rules they'll set for you. You can't go in there with any crazy-sounding theories about how Lucius Malfoy is responsible for every crime that's been committed in the last ten years."

"Hermione, Lucius Malfoy was evil."

"I know that, Harry. And I know you think he's connected to a bunch of different things, but until we get proof, you'll come off sounding like a paranoid lunatic. You've got to keep quiet in the courtroom and let Orson do his job. Can you do that?"

Harry rolled his one remaining good eye. "Yes, Mum. I can behave. But they're not gonna let me out with you. I'm a dangerous criminal. They're going to want to keep me locked up."

"You leave that to Orson and me."

"Orson," Harry muttered. "Name hardly inspires confidence."

##########

"No," Harry said stubbornly. "I won't do it."

Harry sat in a small conference room off the main courtroom, the same courtroom he'd been "tried" in back in the summer before his sixth year. This time, however, instead of the entire Wizengamot, he'd only had to face a single judge, whose job it was to hear the charges against the accused, accept a plea, and decide whether or not the defendant represented a risk of flight or whether he could be trusted to appear at trial if released on bail.

Orson Dingwell (whose friends called him "Ding") looked, in Harry's opinion, like an anemic accountant. He had not felt inspired when Hermione had introduced them, but the little man had been masterful, Harry had to admit. He'd arrived before the healer could see Harry, and he'd insisted that Harry's injuries remain untreated. He'd used them to point out to the judge just how dangerous it was for Harry to remain in the custody of the Ministry. After entering Harry's not guilty plea to the charge of murder, he'd argued that Harry had ties to the community and friends that were willing to vouch for him. He'd reminded the court that Harry was the hero who had rid the wizarding world of Lord Voldemort. Everyone in the room could tell that the judge was very receptive to this particular argument, and he practically fawned over Harry.

The Ministry lawyer had argued in his turn that Harry had a fortune at his disposal, and if he wanted to, he had the means to disappear forever. He knew better than to suggest that Harry was a danger to the community at large, based on the judge's obvious bias in Harry's favor, but he did point out that Harry's friends were hardly in the best position to monitor him until his trial.

Snape, who was in the courtroom, scrawled a note on a piece of parchment and passed it forward to Orson. After reading it, Ding stood up. "Your honor, if the court is so inclined, I've had an offer from an upstanding member of the community, a hero in his own right, and a member of the Auror department, to take Mr. Potter into his own home. If the court is willing to grant the accused home arrest, Mr. Potter can be provided with an ankle bracelet which will alert authorities if he tries to leave the residence he is released to."

"Who is making this offer?" the judge inquired.

"Severus Snape, sir. He is Mr. Potter's immediate supervisor and has known Mr. Potter since he was a boy at Hogwarts."

"No!" Harry exclaimed. "Absolutely not."

"Sir, might we have a short recess so that I can confer with my client?"

"Let's take ten minutes."

And Hermione and Ding had spent nine of them trying to convince Harry to go with Snape if the judge allowed him to do so. So far, he'd stubbornly clung to his position: he had no intention of staying with that traitor.

"Harry Potter," Hermione said, finally losing her temper, "you have the choice of staying with Snape or being _shut up in Azkaban_. Stop being so stubborn! You are going to do this, to save _me_ from worrying about you every damn minute!"

"Hermione, he betrayed me. He turned me in. I can't stay with him."

"You can, and you will," Hermione insisted. "Now we're going to back into that courtroom, and if you are lucky enough to be granted house arrest with Snape, you're going to smile and say, 'thank you, your honor,' and you're going to go home with Snape. If you're with Snape, we'll have access to you all day, where if you're incarcerated, we'll be limited to the hour a day you're allowed by Azkaban rules. And you won't be able to help us, Harry, from inside those walls. You have to see how much better this is."

Harry could. He was, quite frankly, terrified of going into Azkaban. He knew the dementors were no longer there patrolling, and were used only when the kiss was administered, but he still couldn't stand the thought of going into the place. Maybe he'd never come out again. But he was still so angry at Snape, and he wanted nothing to do with the man. "All right," he said. He figured he could stay in his room and avoid interacting with Snape. And it _would_ be better than Azkaban.

Two hours later, the aurors who'd accompanied him to Snape's flat removed the handcuffs, affixed a monitoring bracelet around his ankle, and left him alone with Snape.

##########

Harry wasted no time pretending to be happy to be here and went straight into the room he'd slept in last night, closing the door behind him. He sat down on the bed, so tired he thought he could go to sleep now and not wake up again until Halloween. He thought about changing into night clothes, then realized that everything he'd owned had been in the rucksack he'd had with him this morning, and that had been confiscated by the aurors when he'd been arrested. He'd gone from having next to nothing to literally nothing. They'd even kept his wand. He put his head in his hands, feeling more defeated than he could ever remember feeling.

A knock sounded on his door, and he ignored it. He had no interest in speaking with Snape the traitor. When Snape knocked again, Harry wanted to growl, "Get lost," but he held his tongue. Apparently concerned that Harry had gone out the window, Snape opened the door and came in without an invitation. Harry didn't move, remaining curled up in his defeated posture on the bed.

"Are you all right?" Snape asked.

"Peachy," Harry muttered.

"Is there anything that you need?"

Harry picked his head up at this and glared at Snape. What he _needed_ was for Snape not to have betrayed him when he came here looking for help. What he _needed_ was to be free to move around at will so that he could get to the bottom of what was going on and clear his name. "What could I possibly need?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Snape sighed. He supposed he deserved the boy's ire, but he'd come in here to explain himself, and he had no intention of leaving until he had done so. "I know you are angry with me," he began. "I know that you feel that I betrayed you."

"Didn't you?" Harry snarled.

"From your perspective, yes, I probably did."

"From my perspective," Harry repeated. "From anyone's perspective. I came here to you, looking for help in my darkest hour, and you turned me in."

"I did what I thought best for you. You were making your situation much worse by not turning yourself in. Now you have legal representation, and you can begin to establish your innocence."

"Have you completely forgotten what I did when . . ." Harry stopped. He hadn't intended to speak with Snape at all, and here he was arguing with him.

"Finish that thought," Snape demanded, pretty sure he knew what Harry had been about to say.

"What difference does it make?" Harry asked, lying on the bed and curling into a ball.

"You were going to ask if I'd forgotten what you did for me after the war," Snape guessed. "How you stood up for me when the entire world wanted me dead or in Azkaban. How you stood between me and the aurors when they came to Hogwarts to arrest me. I have not forgotten any of this."

"Then how could you do this to me now?" was Harry's anguished reply.

Snape sat on the edge of the bed. "Because I did not want to see you throw away your entire future. I do not believe you killed Lucius Malfoy. If you did not come in and establish your innocence, you would be flushing your career down the loo, not to mention you'd live the rest of your life looking over your shoulder, wondering when the law was going to catch up with you. I never thanked you properly for what you did for me, Harry. I am doing that now, by keeping you safe here and helping you to prove that you did not do what you have been accused of."

Was Harry supposed to feel grateful about this, then? Was he supposed to thank Snape for getting him arrested, for putting him in a position where Draco Malfoy could extract revenge for petty boyhood grudges, for the stylish new anklet he sported, for being confined in the home of a man who didn't want him and who he was still trying so desperately not to love?

"I'm tired," he said, and he was. "I'd like to sleep now."

Snape sighed in defeat. "I have placed a night shirt and toiletries in the bathroom for your use. If you would like to shower, please feel free to do so. While you are here, I want you to treat my home as your own."

Harry didn't respond, and Snape finally left him with a softly spoken, "Sleep well, Harry."

##########

Harry had refused Snape's offer of breakfast, but he dug in hungrily to the bagels that Hermione and Orson brought with them. As soon as they'd finished eating, the four of them gathered around the cleared kitchen table. Harry glared at Snape, then turned to Hermione, "What's _he_ doing here?"

Snape refused to play Harry's childish games. "I want to help. I have taken leave from the aurors until you are cleared."

That news surprised Harry more than a little. That Snape was willing to put his own life on hold moved him, but Harry was still angry with Snape, and his sacrifice couldn't completely eliminate that anger. But it did dampen it some.

Orson withdrew a file from his case. "MLE has turned over their entire file," he said. "They say it's a good-faith gesture on their part, because you have yet to sit down with them. They are requesting that we bring you in this afternoon for a formal interview. We cannot avoid that forever, and we will likely accede to that request. We will have the benefit of having reviewed their case, so that we can begin to rebut their points. Many criminal solicitors do not wish to know whether their clients are guilty or not. That's not the way I operate. In order to represent you, I need to know the truth. If you hold out on me, I cannot prepare your defense adequately. So I'm going to ask you only once, and I'm going to ask you to look me in the eye, as the honorable man I know you to be, and tell me, did you kill Lucius Malfoy?"

Harry looked straight into Orson's eyes and said, without hesitation, "I did not kill Lucius Malfoy. You can give me veritaserum if you like."

"That will not be necessary," Orson told him. "I believe you. So let's look at the evidence the MLE has collected. You do not have an alibi. Let's talk about where you were the night of the murder."

Harry took a deep breath, relieved beyond measure that his lawyer believed him. "I'd had a bad day at work," he said. "I was restless. When I got to Ron and Hermione's, no one was home, so I grabbed Ron's broom, and I went flying. That's always helped me to work off stress and allow me to think. I flew for a couple of hours. When I landed, I wasn't even sure where I was. There was a small field and an orchard or something. I sat down under a tree, and I ate the food I'd brought with me. It was really peaceful there, and I just sat there for a while. I guess I fell asleep, because the next thing I knew, I woke up on the ground and it was morning."

"Did anyone see you, either when you were flying or after you landed?" Orson asked.

"No. I obviously shielded myself when I was flying, and when I landed, there was no one else there. It was a field. I didn't even see any houses nearby."

"All right. So what did you do after you woke up?"

"I went back to Ron and Hermione's. Ron wasn't there, but Hermione told me that Blades had floo called, looking for me, and that Arthur had told Ron that Lucius Malfoy had been killed. It seemed obvious from what Hermione told me that I was being considered a suspect."

"And is that because of the confrontation you'd had the previous day with Mr. Malfoy?" Orson questioned.

"I suppose so."

"Tell me about that."

"I'd just been told that Eliza Godfrey was dead. Do you know about Eliza?"

"Hermione has told me about that. We'll go over that in a bit."

"All right. So I was upset about that. And then I walked out in the bullpen, and there's the Minister with Malfoy. I believe that Lucius Malfoy was responsible for Eliza's kidnaping, and I had a hunch that he'd had her killed, so I confronted him, because it seemed inappropriate for him to be at the MLE, with the Minister, given what I suspected about him. I said some things about the Minister that were probably unwise, so he got angry and ended up suspending me. I told Malfoy that he wasn't going to get away with what he had done, that I was going to make him pay. But I did _not_ mean that I was going to kill him, only that I was going to see him in prison."

"Who witnessed this altercation?" Orson asked.

"About twenty aurors," Harry said, slightly ashamed that he'd lost his cool in front of his peers. "The Minister. Snape."

Orson turned to Snape. "Is there anything you can add to Harry's description of what happened?"

"No," Snape said. "It happened just as he described. He told Malfoy that he would make him pay, and then I dragged him out of there."

"So they've established that you have no alibi and that you had a confrontation with the victim earlier on the day of his death. The file contains allegations that you believe Lucius Malfoy was responsible for a variety of crimes. Tell me about that."

Hermione and Severus both sighed a little at this point. This was where Harry was going to come across sounding a bit mad, with his conspiracy theories about Lucius Malfoy. Perhaps Orson would be able to show Harry how paranoid it sounded when he insisted that Malfoy was responsible for every crime committed over the last several months in both the wizard and Muggle worlds.

Harry glared at both of them before turning his attention back to Orson. "This could take a while."

"I have all day," he counsel assured him.

"It started a few months ago. I went undercover in a club called the Pissing Oyster. The club had been identified as a source for drug Blue Dragon, an incredibly addictive drug that was being manufactured in the wizarding world but sold almost exclusively at that point to Muggles. Are you familiar with it?"

"Yes," Orson told him. "I've had several clients who committed crimes while under its influence."

"I got hired as the lead singer in the house band, and I worked there for several months. I passed information through my contact about the people I saw coming and going and the drug use that I saw. One night, after the show had ended, someone slipped me some Blue Dragon and Rohypnol. I only remember snatches of what happened after that. But one thing I do remember is that Lucius Malfoy was there, in the club. I can't remember the context, but he was there. I'm sure of it."

Orson made notes on his pad. "Rohypnol. Notorious for causing memory blackouts. Do you know why you were given Rohypnol?"

Harry shifted nervously. "How could that be relevant?"

"Well, you have to realize that the fact that you were given this particular drug is going to make any memories you have from that night suspect."

Harry shot a sideways glance at Snape. "So I've been told."

"So the fact that you had that particular drug in your system is certainly relevant. I have to wonder why it was given to you."

Harry looked helplessly at Snape. He'd had no idea that he'd have to get into this at all.

"Harry," Orson said. "Remember what I told you. If I don't know it all, I can't help you."

Snape spoke up before Harry had a chance. "I am aware of what transpired that evening. It really is not relevant to the case at hand."

"With all due respect to both of you," Orson said, "I should be the one to make that decision."

Harry was grateful to Snape for trying. "I was given the Rohypnol by the manager of the club, Miles Osborne. After he gave it to me, he . . . raped me."

Hermione gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Harry couldn't look at anyone, and kept his eyes trained on the table.

"Did he give you the Blue Dragon as well?" Orson asked softly.

"I don't know who gave me the Blue Dragon," Harry said, his voice low. His hands were visibly shaking on top of the table. "Can I . . . I have to use the loo." Harry got quickly to his feet and beat a hasty retreat from the room. Hermione jumped up and ran after him.

Snape and Orson waited, and several minutes later, Harry and Hermione returned to the room, holding hands. Both had obviously been crying. They resumed their seats at the table. "I'm ready to continue," Harry said softly.

"I'm sorry for making you relive that," Orson said. "So you remember seeing Lucius Malfoy at the club that night. Let's go on from there."

Harry took a deep breath. "I tried to convince my superiors that Lucius Malfoy had something to do with the Blue Dragon epidemic, but no one would believe me. After I left the undercover job, I was assigned to the disappearance of a fifteen-year old girl, Eliza Godfrey. She'd been abducted because her step-father owed money to the wrong people. He had a Blue Dragon habit. I found Eliza in an old warehouse, filled with valerian mushrooms. The warehouse was owned by a company that Lucius Malfoy owned. That was not a coincidence. I brought Eliza home. By the time aurors went to the warehouse, it had been cleaned out – not a single valerian mushroom to be found. My report contained details of everything I'd seen and my suspicions as to who was behind it and why."

Suddenly, Snape started in his chair, and everyone turned to look at him. "I've just thought of something. If you will excuse me for a bit, I must go into the office. One of you will stay until I return?" Under the terms of Harry's release, he was not to be left alone.

"I will," Hermione promised. Without any further indication what was going on in his head, Severus left them.

"Where were we?" Orson asked.

"I found Eliza."

"Right. She was killed a short time later?"

"Yes. But before that, someone put an explosive device in my flat. I admit that I don't have any evidence to support this, but I believe Lucius Malfoy put it there in an attempt to silence my accusations. And then Eliza and her mum were killed. And I know how it sounds, but I think Malfoy was behind that, too. Eliza could have identified him as being involved in her kidnaping, and he had to silence her. I don't know if he did it himself or if he hired someone to do it for him, but I know he's behind it."

The only sound in the room was made by Orson's quill as he scratched notes on his legal pad.

"I know how it sounds," Harry said miserably, running his thumbnail along a scratch in the table.

Orson set his pen down. "I've seen your personnel file, Harry." When Harry looked up, surprised by this, Orson explained. "I asked Severus for it. He probably shouldn't have let me, but he really does want to help you. Anyway, I read through your file. It seems clear to me that one of your major strengths is your instinct. You believe that Lucius Malfoy is connected to these crimes?"

"I do, in my gut," Harry confirmed.

"Then I believe that these allegations have some merit," Orson said. "They may not all turn out to be true, but they are worth looking into, and I'll have my investigators get started immediately."

Harry felt like crying again. He hadn't realized just how much everyone's inability to take his concerns seriously had weighed on him. The fact that someone believed that he might just know what he was talking about made him strangely emotional.

Orson removed a piece of parchment from his stack of documents and pushed it across to Harry. "Tell me about this."

Harry looked down at it – it was the list of properties that he'd made while searching for Eliza. "This is a list of the real estate that I determined Lucius Malfoy had some interest in. I made it while I was looking for Eliza. I found her here," he said, indicating with a finger the warehouse where Eliza had been held.

Orson placed his finger in a second spot on the parchment. "This is where Mr. Malfoy was killed."

"Oh," Harry said, realizing just how this looked. "I didn't go there. I started with the properties that seemed likely to be vacant or at least less likely to have significant traffic. Eventually I would have visited this flat and the others on the list."

"Do you own a gun, Harry?"

"A gun? No. Why?"

"Malfoy was shot," Hermione informed him.

Harry hadn't known that. He'd assumed Malfoy had been AK'd. "He was shot?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yes," Orson confirmed.

"I've never even touched a gun," Harry said. "Wouldn't know what to do with it. That's strange, don't you think?"

"What's strange?"

"That he was killed with a Muggle weapon. Was he killed by a Muggle, or was a witch or wizard trying to make it _look_ like he'd been killed by a Muggle?"

"That's a good question. Perhaps when we're looking into Malfoy's business dealings, we'll find a Muggle that seems likely to have wanted him dead."

"Hold on!" Harry said, getting excited. "Graham Gaston. He might have wanted Malfoy dead. If Malfoy was the source of the Blue Dragon, it's possible that he might have blamed Malfoy for his addiction. He must have known Malfoy was behind his step-daughter's abduction, and maybe he knew that Malfoy had his wife and daughter killed. Perhaps this was his revenge."

"That's one theory we can explore," Orson said, making notes again. "The logical place to start is to determine whether or not this Gaston owned a gun."

Harry began to feel more hopeful now that they had avenues to explore, investigating that they could do. Well, _he_ couldn't do any of it, not stuck here, but someone could be chasing these things down.

Orson looked at his watch. "There's a lot more we need to go over, but I think we'll stop here for now. It's nearly lunchtime, and I want to get my investigators going on some of this stuff. I think we want to hold off on the Ministry interview until we get some preliminary questions answered. I'll schedule it for tomorrow morning. Is that acceptable?"

Harry nodded. He wasn't looking forward to going back into the Ministry in any event – the longer they delayed, the happier he would be.

Orson began to pack up. "I'll call you later this afternoon, keep you updated on the status of things. I know it will be frustrating for you to sit here and not be involved, but you're going to have to let us do our jobs. If you think of anything that will help, call me." He slid a card across the table at Harry.

"All right," Harry said. "Thank you, Orson. I feel so much better now."

"Just doing my job, Harry. And you can call me Ding."

Harry smiled, no longer put off by the silly nickname. "All right, Ding. I'll be waiting for your call."

##########

Harry had retired to his room after lunch, telling Hermione that he was tired and needed to rest. What he needed more than that was time alone, to think. He was more convinced than ever that Lucius Malfoy was behind everything. The pieces were falling into place, and he was incredibly frustrated not to be out there investigating himself. He lay on the bed all afternoon, thinking of potential avenues for his legal team to explore, jumping up and making notes on parchment whenever something new occurred to him, until he found himself going around in circles, covering territory he'd already covered. Then he lay back on the bed and actually tried to rest, but quieting his mind was an impossible task.

He was glad for the interruption when Hermione poked her head in late in the afternoon to say that Snape was back and she was leaving. After promising to see him in the morning, she left him alone with Snape. Who knocked on the bedroom door not long after Hermione left.

Harry ignored him. It was just easier that way.

But Snape would not be ignored, and he pushed the door open. "I have brought dinner," he announced.

His back to Snape, Harry pretended to be asleep.

"I know you are not asleep," Snape said. "Ignoring me will not make me go away. I have some things to tell you, things that I think you will want to hear. I will be at the table should you wish to join me."

Snape left and closed the door softly. Harry lay there for a time, intent on ignoring the man. He managed to stay there for three whole minutes before he jumped off the bed, cursing his damned curiosity.

Harry dropped somewhat sullenly into the chair across from Snape. A plate had been set there for him, as though Snape had been certain that he would come out. The smells coming from the take-away containers on the table told him that Snape had brought Chinese, which was Harry's favorite. Sighing in defeat, he pulled a carton closer and began to serve himself.

Snape let Harry eat for a time before he began to speak. "When you spoke earlier about the warehouse, it reminded me of the evidence you obtained on the night you rescued young Eliza Godfrey. I went into the office today and analyzed it."

"Wait a minute," Harry said, his head coming up and his eyes snapping. "You only thought to do that now? Why wasn't it done when I gave it to you?"

Severus looked away uncomfortably but said nothing.

Harry threw his fork down in disgust. Snape had done nothing with the evidence he'd been given because he hadn't believed a word of what Harry had said that night.

"I was wrong," Snape admitted. "Despite my own feelings about your theories, I should have processed the evidence you gathered. I cannot change the fact that I did not do it then, but I have done it now, and the results were interesting."

Despite his irritation with Snape, Harry wanted to hear this, so he sat back and waited for Snape to go on.

"What do you know about how mushrooms are grown?"

"They grow on logs, apparently," Harry said. "And they like the dark."

"Both true. As you could tell from the trays . . ."

"Oh, you believe that there were trays now, do you?" Harry asked sarcastically.

Snape ignored him. ". . . mushrooms are grown on logs. In many cases, actual logs are used. More and more, though, synthetic logs are being manufactured, which produce a much greater yield and can be used year-round. The logs are made of many different organic substances. The log which you gave me was a composite made mainly of sawdust and corncobs."

Well that explained why the log didn't resemble any tree Harry had ever seen.

"In order to grow, mushrooms need a food source. The dirt which you collected, which was not, in fact, dirt, was the mushroom's food source and was made from coffee pulp, cottonseed meal, soybean meal, and hippogriff manure, among other things."

As fascinating as all this was, Harry was at a loss as to how this information could help him.

"All of the substances involved in growing the mushrooms are organic, as are the mushrooms themselves. Therefore, everything that goes into the process of growing the mushroom ends up _in_ the mushroom."

Harry stared at him blankly. It seemed as though Snape thought this fact was important, but Harry just wasn't getting it.

"And anything that is made with the mushroom will also be imbued with the materials used in its production."

Still with the blank stare.

Snape worked hard not to sigh at the boy's inability to understand. "If I was in possession of a particular mushroom, I could examine that mushroom and tell you what was used to make it grow."

Harry was starting to get it. "If you made a pill from that mushroom, you could also tell what was used to make the mushroom grow?"

Snape nodded, pleased. "Thankfully, I did have such a pill. You gave it to me."

Harry remembered. Miles had given him a pill, and he'd turned it over to Snape. "Well?" Harry demanded. "Were they connected?"

Snape nodded. "The composition of the valerian mushroom in the Blue Dragon pill you gave me was identical in every respect to the mushroom which you obtained from the warehouse."

Harry mulled this over for a moment. "The pill that Miles gave me was made in the mushroom-growing facility that was contained in the basement of a building owned by Lucius Malfoy," he stated.

Snape couldn't have phrased it any more plainly himself. "Yes."

Harry smiled. This was good. It didn't directly connect Lucius Malfoy to anything, but it sure was strong circumstantial evidence. Happy, Harry began to eat again.

"I am sorry, Harry," Snape said softly.

Harry looked up, surprised.

"You came to me with concerns about Lucius Malfoy, and I brushed them off. If I had listened to you, we might not be here now."

Harry's anger at Snape thawed just a little, because he knew how difficult it was for Snape to apologize to him. "Yeah. Eliza Godfrey might still be alive, I might still have my home and my cat and my job, and I might not be under house arrest."

Snape knew he deserved that, so he said nothing. But he no longer had an appetite, and they sat in awkward silence until the phone rang. Grateful for the interruption, Snape got up to answer it.

"Snape here," he said awkwardly, still uncomfortable with the Muggle device.

"Yes, of course. . . . Yes. . . . Goodbye."

"That was your solicitor. He has information for you and is on his way up here."

"Good information, or bad information?"

"He did not say. One can only assume it is important information, for him to be coming back here tonight."

"Oh," Harry said worriedly. "Guess we should clean up." And he rose and began carrying cartons of food into the kitchen. Snape followed him with the dishes and utensils. It took only a few short minutes to clean up, and then they sat in the sitting room, the silence awkward and uncomfortable, until a knock sounded on the door. Snape gratefully got up to let the solicitor in.

"Harry," Orson said, "how are you holding up?"

"I'm okay," Harry said nervously. "What's going on?"

As they sat in the sitting room, Orson removed a file from his case. "I've received a copy of Lucius Malfoy's autopsy report." He didn't open it – he already had it memorized. "He was killed by a single lead ball which entered his heart. Death was not instantaneous and likely occurred thirty minutes to an hour after the wound was sustained. Cause of death was exsanguination."

"A lead ball?" Harry asked, confused. "I thought he was shot."

"He was. Muzzle-loading firearms shoot lead balls. Mr. Malfoy was shot by a muzzle-loading handgun."

Both Harry and Snape were confused. Neither knew anything about Muggle weapons. Harry had thought guns shot bullets, not lead balls.

"I'm not sure I understand if this helps us," he said.

"It helps us a great deal. Because Graham Gaston is the registered owner of a Crockett pistol, which is a muzzle-loader," Orson explained.

"Which shoots lead balls," Snape stated.

"Exactly. If we can get our hands on that pistol, we can test it against the lead ball that was recovered from Lucius Malfoy's body, and we will be able to determine whether that gun fired the deadly projectile."

"Do we have an address for Mr. Gaston?" Snape asked.

"My contacts in the Muggle world have found a flat where he is believed to have been staying since he disappeared from his wife's home," Orson said.

"I will have aurors search it," Snape said.

"We will not be able to get a warrant," Orson warned.

"I do not care about that. Nor will the Wizengamot. If we are able to find that gun and prove that it was used to kill Lucius Malfoy, then they will have no choice but to free Harry."

_Oh, I'm _Harry _now, am I?_ But instead of saying that, Harry turned hopeful eyes on his attorney. "Is that true? Is what he's saying true? Will they have to let me go?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Orson counseled. "We're not sure we have Gaston's actual address. Even if we do, we don't know that the gun will be there. But yes, if we are able to recover the gun, and the ballistics match, the Wizengamot will accept that. There is established precedent for allowing Muggle evidence before the court."

"And can we then arrest Gaston for the murder?" Harry wanted to know.

"Quite frankly, I don't care. My job is to defend you. What the aurors do next is entirely up to them."

Harry sat back, feeling a small amount of hope creep into his heart. "Is there anything else?" he asked.

"That is all for tonight," Orson said, repacking his case. "I thought you'd like to know as soon as possible."

"Thank you. I appreciate that," Harry said sincerely. Perhaps he'd be able to sleep tonight.

Orson stood up. "I must be going. You'll arrange for the search?" he asked Snape.

"First thing in the morning," Snape promised.

"Let me know what turns up. Try not to worry, Harry. This is excellent news. Even if we can't find the gun, we can still establish an alternate suspect who owned the exact same type of weapon that was used in the commission of the crime."

"But it would be better if we could find the gun, right?"

"It would," Orson agreed. "Good night, gentlemen. We'll talk again tomorrow."

"Good night, Ding. And thanks," Harry said.

After the man had left, Snape turned to Harry. "This is good news, is it not?"

"I suppose so," Harry said, trying not to get too excited, and still reticent around Snape. "I'm going off to bed now. Thank you for dinner."

As Harry went quietly off to his room, Snape could only watch him go.


	4. Chapter 4

**Reward for Perseverance**

by Warviben

**Summary**: After the death of Voldemort, both Harry Potter and Severus Snape join the Aurors. Harry struggles with a lack of respect from his co-workers, an attraction he cannot quash, and disappointment because the job he'd always wanted is not what he thought it would be. Snape struggles with Harry.

**Warnings:** This fic contains detailed descriptions of sexual encounters. Some of them are male-on-male. If any of this disturbs you, please hit the back button.

From Chapter Three:

"_Let me know what turns up. Try not to worry, Harry. This is excellent news. Even if we can't find the gun, we can still establish an alternate suspect who owned the exact same type of weapon that was used in the commission of the crime."_

"_But it would be better if we could find the gun, right?"_

"_It would," Orson agreed. "Good night, gentlemen. We'll talk again tomorrow."_

"_Good night, Ding. And thanks," Harry said._

_After the man had left, Snape turned to Harry. "This is good news, is it not?"_

"_I suppose so," Harry said, trying not to get too excited, and still reticent around Snape. "I'm going off to bed now. Thank you for dinner."_

_As Harry went quietly off to his room, Snape could only watch him go. _

Chapter Four

Hermione had been called over to "babysit" while Snape went into the office to arrange for the aurors to search the flat suspected to be Gaston's residence. They waited anxiously, watching the door, waiting for Snape to return, talking little, pacing much. When Snape finally returned, Harry held his breath.

"We were not able to find the gun," Snape said. "It was apparent that Gaston _was _staying in the flat. He was not at home when we arrived, and we searched the place from top to bottom. There was no gun."

Harry let out the breath he'd been holding and his shoulders slumped.

"I reported our results to Dingwell, and he has used his Muggle contacts to put out an . . ." Snape searched his memory bank for the appropriate unfamiliar term, "APB I believe he said, which means that law enforcement officials throughout the city will be looking for him. If they find him, he will be arrested, and we will know."

"Great," Harry said, his voice fake-bright. "So we just wait." _Lovely. He got to hang around the flat of a man who barely tolerated him for the foreseeable future._

"Harry, try not to be discouraged," Snape urged. "Dingwell told you that it was not the end of the world if we couldn't find the gun. We still have a viable alternative suspect who had the means and the motive for killing Malfoy."

"Yeah, sure," Harry agreed dully. "The Ministry's always taken my word for things. I'm sure they'll be convinced."

##########

Harry poked listlessly at his breakfast. The forced inactivity was starting to drive him spare. If he could just go outside and take a walk, he thought, his outlook would be improved greatly. He was a creature of the light, and he needed the sunlight as much as any plant did to thrive. Staring out the window just wasn't the same.

"Are the eggs not to your liking?" Snape inquired politely.

"Huh?" Harry said, looking up and then back down again quickly. "No, they're fine. Just not that hungry, I guess."

"You hardly touched your supper," Snape pointed out. "I realize you are under a great deal of stress, but you will only make it worse by not eating."

Harry wasn't sure if he should be irritated at Snape's meddling, or touched by his concern, so he settled for indifference. But he ate his eggs. Once he finished, and the dishes had been cleaned up, he despaired to think that he had yet another day with absolutely nothing to do. Perhaps he'd read one of Snape's many books. He'd perused the shelves yesterday and noted that Snape owned loads of Muggle classics, none of which he had ever read. Perhaps he'd start with Charles Dickens.

He was about to open his mouth to ask Snape for permission to read one of the books, and perhaps ask for a recommendation about where to start, when the phone rang. Snape dried his hands and answered it.

"Yes, he's right here." Snape extended the receiver toward Harry. "It is for you. It is Dingwell."

Harry took the phone. "Hey, Ding. Before you get started, let me ask you something. When can I get my phone back?" The Aurors had taken Harry's phone the morning he'd been arrested.

Whatever the response, Snape thought, Harry seemed displeased with it. "Well, it would be nice to be able to have a private conversation on my own phone." Harry said pointedly, and Snape got it. Harry didn't want him listening in on his conversation with his attorney. Saddened by the boy's continued hesitance around him, Snape retired to his bedroom, closing the door softly and leaving Harry to his discussion.

"I spoke this morning with Auror Blades," Ding began. "And I presented to him the alternate suspect, along with all of the evidence we have gathered to date. He has promised that they will look into Mr. Gaston."

Harry waited for more. Some small part of him had hoped that once the MLE had someone else to go after, they would release Harry and let him get back to his life, such as it was. "That's it?" he asked when nothing more was forthcoming.

"What else should there be?"

"I don't know," Harry confessed. "It's a little anticlimactic."

"Apologies," said Ding. "It gets worse. Although they are looking into Gaston as an alternate suspect, they still consider you one as well, and they are pressing me for an interview with you. They are rightfully claiming that were you any other suspect, they would have had that interview by now. We cannot put this off any longer. If we don't accede to a time and date of our choosing, they will come to Mr. Snape's flat and take you in at a time of their choosing. With this in mind, I have scheduled you to go into the Ministry the day after tomorrow."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. "Can't we do it here?"

"I asked that very question. They refused."

"All right. I've got nothing to hide. Let them ask whatever they want."

"I have set aside the entire day tomorrow to prepare for the interview. You and I will go over every facet of your statement. We'll identify any holes and fill them, and we will prepare answers to any questions they may be likely to ask."

"All right," Harry said. "Not like I have anything better to do tomorrow."

"Good. Be warned, Harry, that you cannot just go to the Ministry accompanied by Mr. Snape. Aurors will come to the flat in the morning, and they will bring you in. You will be handcuffed and escorted by aurors. I didn't want that to be a surprise."

"Thanks, I guess," Harry said. "So I'll see you tomorrow?"

"You will," Ding promised. "If there are any new developments, I will, of course, alert you right away."

"All right, Ding. Thanks for the call. I'll talk to you soon."

###########

Snape had stayed in his bedroom as long as possible. Hoping that Harry had finished his call, he emerged into the sitting room to find Harry once again staring out the window. He wanted to ask what news Ding had delivered, but his recent reminder that he was not an intimate part of Harry's life left him hesitant to pry.

"Do you mind if I read one of your books?" Harry asked before Snape could form an appropriate remark.

"Of course not," Snape said, grateful. "Help yourself to whatever you find."

Harry moved to the shelf and began once again to peruse the titles. "You like Dickens?" he asked.

"I do."

"I've never read any," Harry confessed. "I was too young for it when I left Muggle school, and Hogwarts doesn't exactly encourage reading for the fun of it, especially Muggle literature, as you well know. Do you have a favorite?" he asked, running a finger along the row of titles. "Or one that you recommend that I start with?"

Snape came to stand behind Harry, and the young man tensed noticeably and instantly. "_Great Expectations _is a particular favorite_. David Copperfield _is another that you might enjoy. You, especially, might relate to the protagonist of that story."

Harry's finger found _Great Expectations_, and he extracted it from its place on the shelf. He studied the cover and flipped the pages open. "I'll start with this, thanks."

He started to make his way to the sofa, but Snape stopped him. "Are you going to be angry with me forever?" he asked quietly.

Harry looked up at Snape, his green eyes filled with sincerity. "I'm not angry with you, Severus. I'm just . . . disappointed, in myself, for wanting things I cannot have and for taking so long to accept what should have been apparent long ago. Those things are not your fault. They're mine. It's just difficult sometimes to forget that I'm not that person any more. I have to keep reminding myself. It's harder than I thought it would be, especially when I'm so close to . . . Well, it doesn't matter. I'm doing the best I can. But I'm not angry with you. I appreciate that you let me stay here and everything that you're doing to help Ding help me. So we're good, all right?"

Snape looked down at the sad and earnest young man in front of him. He thought they were anything but good, but he said, "All right. Enjoy your book. I will make tea in a bit."

##########

Harry was nearly willing to confess to anything if they could just stop. Ding had arrived this morning at eight, and he'd been hammering at Harry for five straight hours, pointing out every minor discrepancy, pouncing on mis-spoken words, asking purposely poorly-worded questions to elicit concessions that Harry never meant to make. Harry felt like he'd been driven around in circles by a sadistic prat with a cattle prod. His head was spinning, he was tired, his gut was churning, and he just wanted to curl up in a corner and cover his head and make the world go away.

"I think that's enough for now," Snape said from the door to the dining room. He'd hovered on the edges of Dingwell's faux interrogation, aching for Harry as his attorney brow beat him with a greater understanding of the English language, all in the name of preparing him for people who would likely want to do worse to him tomorrow. He'd watched for as long as he could, but the dejected set of Harry's shoulders told him it was time to intervene.

Harry looked up gratefully, but Ding said, "Mr. Snape, we're not finished yet."

"It is lunch time," Snape stated firmly.

"They will not let him a break for meals. In fact, the more uncomfortable they can cause him to be, the better, from their perspective. You both know this – you've both likely conducted countless interrogations."

Harry wanted to speak up and say that no, actually, he'd never been trusted to handle an interrogation, but he already felt like crying and didn't think airing that particular grievance would help any.

"We are not them," Snape said. "He has had enough for now."

Dingwell looked across the table at Harry and noticed for the first time how beat down the young man looked. "All right," he conceded.

"Good," Snape said. "I will bring out lunch."

"Are you all right, Harry?" Ding asked softly.

"Sure," Harry answered automatically. "Fine."

"You understand why I have to be harsh, I assume."

"Of course," Harry confirmed. And he did. But that didn't mean it was easy. Or fun.

"Whoever interviews you tomorrow will not be gentle. The MLE will want to dispel any appearance of favoritism when dealing with one of their own. They will go out of their way to trip you up and make you squirm. They will twist your words around until you cannot even recognize them as your own. They will want to get into things that will seem irrelevant to you and probably are, but they have a wide latitude in how they conduct their investigation. And I should warn you that failing to answer any question may result in a petition to the Wizengamot for the opportunity to be conduct the interview under veritaserum, a petition the court will likely grant. I should also warn you that they will probably ask you questions about your personal life."

"My . . . personal life?"

"Yes. They'll attempt to throw you off balance by poking into your past. They may ask questions about your childhood with the Muggles, or about Voldemort. They may question you about your friends or the people you've dated."

"The people I've dated? They can do that?" If they included the people that Harry had only slept with, this interview could take a long time.

Ding nodded seriously. "I'm afraid they can."

Harry swallowed audibly. "All right. I understand." He didn't like it, but he thought he understood how the Ministry would approach his interview.

"If you know any meditation techniques, it wouldn't be a bad idea to employ some of them if things get particularly rough. If they sense they are making you uncomfortable, they will press an issue until you lose your temper." Dingwell could see that his words were upsetting his client, so he sought for a more reassuring tone. "As bad as it sounds, I will be there with you, Harry, and I will not let them step too far over the line. We will get through it together."

Harry felt a tear slip from one eye. He was so damn tired, and he just wanted this over. He wiped it away self-consciously.

Ding reached over and covered Harry's hand with his own. "It will be all right. Don't give up hope."

Snape entered the room with a tray of sandwiches, but stopped short when he realized what he was witnessing. What, exactly, _was _he witnessing? He cleared his throat, and the lawyer withdrew his hand. Harry looked away, a strange expression flitting across his face as he hid his tears. "Lunch," Snape announced awkwardly.

##########

Ding had stayed for another hour after lunch. Severus had not left the two of them alone for a moment. After he'd left, Severus was unaccountably grumpy and short with Harry. Confused, Harry retired to his room.

Later that day, when Hermione came by for a visit, Harry asked her to teach him how to meditate.

##########

It was an indication of how Harry's day was going to go that the aurors who arrived to escort him to the Ministry insisted that he be cuffed, as protocol dictated, despite Snape's appeal that a little professional courtesy be extended to one of their own. When he arrived at the Ministry, he was brought in through the main entrance, and it was immediately obvious that the press had been made aware that he was coming. It took twenty minutes to work their way through the crowd thronging the atrium, and Harry was beginning to feel more than a little claustrophobic before they finally made it to the lifts. Somewhere along the way, Harry had become separated from Severus and Ding, and he felt a little bereft at the loss of what felt like the only support he had in a world suddenly gone mad.

The aurors cleared out a lift and pushed Harry inside. After the doors closed and they started to move, one of the aurors, Harry thought his name was Hector, said gruffly, "Sorry about the cuffs. Orders."

"I understand," Harry said, not surprised that the instructions had come from above. "It's all right."

"They're not too tight are they?" Hector asked.

"No. They're good." Awkward silence followed. "Been busy?" Harry finally asked.

"Yeah," Hector said. "You know how it is. Crime never sleeps."

Harry hmmed noncommittally in agreement.

The remainder of the ride was taken in silence. Harry was escorted out of the lift and into the same interrogation cell he'd been in directly after being arrested. Once again, with apologies from Hector, his hands were cuffed to the magic-restricting bar on the table, and he was left to wait. At least this time, Hector closed the blinds in the window in the door so that no one could see in.

Harry rested his head on his arms on the table while he waited, inhaling deep, calming breaths, centering himself like Hermione had taught him, while he waited for Ding to arrive and for the rest of this hellish day to get under way. He didn't have long to wait.

"Harry," Ding said as he walked in and closed the door. "Sorry about allowing us to get separated. That crowd was unexpected. Someone obviously tipped them off." He looked distastefully at the bar that Harry was tethered to. "We'll ask them to release you when they get in here. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I just want this to be over."

"They'll likely leave us in here a while, just to make you nervous."

"Whatever," Harry said with little interest. He was too tired to work up an appropriate amount of indignation. "Where's Severus?"

"He's going to watch from the other side of the window. He asked to be let into the room, but they denied him."

They chatted about nothing for over half an hour, Harry trying to keep his nerves at bay, because he'd learned in Interrogation 101 that allowing your suspect to stew in his own juices was a good way to start him off wrong-footed in the interrogation.

"Who do you think they'll send?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," Ding said. "Could be anyone, but I think that we'll have some idea of how they plan to handle this based on who they send. If they send someone friendly to you, we'll know that they believe you and are seriously looking into Gaston." For the briefest of moments, Harry allowed himself to picture Louisa Riggs walking into the room, but he quashed that hope quickly – it wouldn't be that easy. It never was. "If they send someone with known animus towards you, then we'll know that they are focusing on you and are taking this interrogation very seriously."

"Someone like Draco Malfoy?"

"If they send Draco Malfoy in here, you and I will be leaving," Ding promised. "He's already assaulted you once. I still wish you'd file a formal complaint."

Harry shook his head. "No. As much as I despise Draco Malfoy, he'd just lost his father. I can sort of understand his reaction. Which is not to say that I won't extract a little revenge if the right circumstances present themselves."

The question of which way the Ministry was leaning was answered when Cyril Crouchback walked in.

Cyril Crouchback had been an auror for nearly twenty-five years and had never risen above the rank of field agent. He'd survived by doing no more than what was required, by choosing carefully when to bend the law for his own financial gain, and by sucking up to his immediate supervisor so that he wouldn't be transferred to another situation that wasn't quite as lucrative.

He'd been operating this way for almost twenty years when his path crossed Harry Potter's at a crime scene. He'd been left in charge of collecting evidence following the arrest of three wizards accused of a string of robberies in Diagon Alley. The three had been living in a dingy flat above Quality Quidditch Supplies, and Crouchback was searching the flat, looking for evidence of their crimes. To his extreme glee, he found three sacks of galleons hidden in the flat's oven, and he lay them out on the table, admiring them. He could take one, put the other two on his inventory, and no one would be the wiser. He shrunk one of the bags down, slipped it into his pocket, and looked up to find newly-minted Auror Harry Potter staring at him.

Harry had only been two months on the job, and he was basically a glorified gopher. He'd been sent here, by Snape, to watch over the collection of evidence because the three arrested for the Diagon Ally robberies were also suspected of assaulting two young witches in the loo of a pub, a case which Snape's team was investigating. He hadn't expected to come in here and see a fellow auror stealing proceeds from a crime. He may have been green, but he knew exactly what he was witnessing.

Crouchback had tried to jolly the young recruit into not seeing what he'd clearly seen, and Harry, fearing that the man might become violent if challenged, went along with him and got out of there as quickly as possible. The first thing he'd done upon returning to the office was tell Arthur Weasley what he'd seen. Arthur had him fill out a report, which was shunted through the appropriate channels.

The end result of all of this was that Crouchback became the subject of an official internal investigation. He maintained his innocence: he found three bags of galleons at the crime scene, and three bags of galleons were listed on the evidence log and turned over to the MLE. He vehemently denied that he had put anything into his pockets at the crime scene. Harry was called to testify regarding what he saw, and he did so. After an hour of deliberation, the internal affairs board concluded that though this was a situation of one person's word against another's, and though in the end, all the money found had been accounted for, there was credible evidence to believe that Cyril Crouchback had indeed attempted to pocket evidence at a crime scene, and he was suspended for one week without pay. The discipline, of course, went into his personnel file.

There was only one reason why Cyril Crouchback would have been chosen to conduct this particular interrogation: Crouchback wasn't particularly smart, nor was he known as a skilled interrogator. What he had was a known animosity toward the accused. The MLE still thought that Harry Potter had killed Lucius Malfoy, and they were pulling out all the stops to get his confession.

Crouchback came into the room, didn't speak a word, and sat down at the table across from Harry and Ding. He placed a folder on the table, opened it up, and began jotting down notes in it with a quill he removed from his robe pocket. Ding and Harry stared across the table at him, waiting for the man to begin. And they waited. And waited. And waited.

After fifteen minutes, Harry began to fidget and was on the verge of saying something when Ding removed his own quill, scrawled a note on the pad he placed in front of him, and pushed it over toward Harry. It read: _Who's this_?

Harry moved as though to take the quill from Ding, then was brought up short by the fact that his hands were tied. He leaned close to Ding and whispered in his ear, "Cyril Crouchback."

_History? _Ding questioned.

"Yeah. Not of the good variety."

_You know he's trying to rile you, _Ding wrote. _Calm down. Deep breaths._

Harry tried more of the deep breathing exercises, picturing himself on a broom, flying lazily through the summer sky. He stopped worrying and went to a happy place. He could stay here all day, and he was a little disappointed when Crouchback finally closed his file and cleared his throat.

"Enjoying your vacation, Potter?" he asked.

"What?" Harry asked, taken aback by the question and at being so abruptly brought back to the present.

"Are . . . you . . . enjoying . . . your . . . vacation?" Crouchback repeated with exaggerated slowness, as though he was speaking to a particularly dimwitted child.

Harry had to reign in the impulse to stand up and punch Crouchback. Of course, he couldn't have anyway, because he was cuffed to this table, but the longing was there, and he had to squash it down. He looked at Ding for help, hoping his attorney could deal with this ridiculousness.

Ding didn't speak. He took his own piece of parchment, looked at his watch, scribbled quickly on the parchment, and slid it across to Crouchback.

"What's this?" the auror asked.

"My bill to the Ministry for the time that we've already wasted here. I'm a busy man, Auror Crouchback, and my services do not come cheaply. You can either get to the point, immediately, or my client and I are leaving."

Crouchback glared at the nerve of the man. "We'll do this my way, and I'd thank you to remember that."

"You do not impress me with your threats. Either start asking questions, or we're leaving," Ding said. It was clear he was not bluffing.

Crouchback made a great show of sighing dramatically and rearranging his file. Then he set out a blank piece of parchment and a quill and started in on Harry.

"Before we get to _the point_," Crouchback began, "there's something I'd like you to clear up for me."

Harry waited for a question, but it was a while in coming. "Well?" he finally demanded. Ding placed his hand over Harry's to calm him down. Crouchback sneered down at their hands.

"Tell me about your relationship with Severus Snape," the auror finally said.

"My what?" Harry asked, confused.

"Auror Crouchback," Ding began, obviously perturbed.

Crouchback held up a hand. "Ah ah," he warned. "This is relevant."

"In what way?" the solicitor demanded.

"Potter here is accused of a serious crime. I'm simply trying to figure out if he had help."

"You think Severus had something to do with this?" Harry asked, incredulous. "You think he . . . what, he _helped _me murder Lucius Malfoy? You really are as stupid as you look!"

Again, Ding covered Harry's hand. "You're stretching the boundaries of relevance, Mr. Crouchback. Ask your questions."

Crouchback's smile was self-satisfied. "It is well known around here that you have been throwing yourself at Snape since you came to work here." Harry could feel his face coloring. "It's also fairly well known that Snape has slammed you at every turn."

"Is that a question?" Ding asked.

"The question is, how many times have you approached Snape, offering yourself up to him?"

Harry turned to his attorney. "Do I have to answer these questions?"

Ding leaned into Harry so that he could speak and not be overheard. "We talked about this, Harry."

Harry huffed a sigh and turned back to Crouchback. "I don't know," he ground out. "I didn't count them."

"Was it more than once?"

"Yes."

"More than ten times?"

"Yes."

"So it's probably safe to say that you don't know how many times because there were so many occasions that you can't remember them all?"

Harry's eyes shifted to the window in the room, behind which he knew Severus was likely watching this. "Yes," he ground out.

"There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Crouchback said with a patronizing tone. "Did Snape ever take you up on your many offers?"

"No."

"Did he tell you why?"

"No."

"Could it be because he's twenty years older than you?"

"I don't know."

"Or because he's your supervisor and that would be, you know, inappropriate?"

"I don't know."

"Or maybe it's because he just didn't find you attractive, or that he can't stand the thought of touching you in that way."

Harry stared at Crouchback, wishing that he had to power to set the man aflame with his gaze. "I don't know," he spat. "You'd have to ask him."

"I think we can just assume that one," Crouchback said smugly. "Have you ever offered to let any of your other superiors bugger you?"

Ding slammed a hand down on the table. "We are done with this line of questioning! Move on, Crouchback!"

Crouchback smirked down at his file. "Is your client refusing to answer the question?"

"No," Harry said.

"No, you're not refusing to answer the question, or no, you've never offered your arse to other superiors?"

"No, I've never approached any other superior in that way," Harry forced out.

"Not Arthur Weasley? I know you have a . . . _special _relationship with him."

Harry's stomach turned at the accusation. "Arthur Weasley is like a father to me!"

"You wouldn't be the first man with daddy issues," Crouchback noted with a revolting leer.

"That's disgusting!" Harry spat.

"So why Snape then?" Crouchback asked, crossing his arms and leaning back, like he was really curious about the answer. "He's not exactly the best-looking bloke, you know? Although perhaps to a queer such as yourself that doesn't matter. What is it that you see in him?"

Harry turned pleading eyes on Ding, begging him to make this stop. Ding wished that he could, but he was helpless, so Harry turned back to this tormentor. "I . . . I find him fascinating. I have done for years."

"Explain something to me," Crouchback continued. "I see you in the _Prophet_ all the time, out with birds, out with blokes, doesn't seem to matter to you. How many people do you think you've had sex with?"

"I don't know!" Harry said indignantly. "It's not like I keep a tally."

"Is it more than one?"

"Yes."

"More than two?'

"Yes."

"More than ten?"

"Yes."

"More than . . . fifty?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Probably."

"More than a hundred?"

"No."

"So somewhere between fifty and a hundred. Bit of a slut there, aren't you, Potter?" Before either man could protest that characterization, Crouchback hurried on to his next question. "So tell me something else I've been wondering. Are you gay, or are you straight?"

Harry raised his eyes defiantly at Crouchback, refusing to be cowed any further by this prick's line of questioning. "I'm bisexual. That means I like both men and women. I like women because they're soft and gentle and they smell good. I like men because they're hard and hairy and a bit more dangerous. And just so you know, when I'm with men, _I_ do the buggering, not the other way round. And also so you know, I wouldn't touch _you _if you were the last bloke on earth and I had a ten-foot pecker!"

Ding didn't try to hide his smile as Crouchback flinched back as though struck. "Thank Merlin for that!" he said, obviously flustered and trying to gain the advantage back. He rustled through his file again, trying to collect himself.

"Tell me about your childhood," he ordered.

Harry actually bit his tongue to keep himself from telling the man to fuck off. Instead, he said, "What would you like to know?"

"There've been lots rumors about the _Boy Hero_ growing up in an environment that was . . . shall we say, not very loving. I think it's important to understand why someone grows up to be a cold-hearted killer. So perhaps you could tell me about your life as a boy."

"Again, what would you like to know?"

"You were raised by an aunt and uncle, is that correct?" Crouchback knew all of this already. More information about his childhood had been widely publicized after Voldemort's defeat than Harry had been comfortable with. This was just another way to twist the knife.

"Yes."

"Muggles, weren't they?"

"Yes."

"Were they loving guardians, supportive of your magical abilities?"

"No."

"Must have been difficult for them, having you thrust upon them as an infant, having to care for some freaky little kid with magic."

"You'd have to ask them."

"Did they treat you as one of their own?"

"No."

"Did they ever hit you?"

"Yes."

"They did? Are we talking a little love tap on the bottom when you misbehaved, or are we talking full-out beatings with a belt."

"No." There had never been any type of _taps _associated with love, and it had never gotten as bad as a beating with a belt.

"I'm sorry. I don't understand. Why don't you give me some examples of the types of physical punishment they used."

Harry hadn't wanted to kill anyone as badly as he wanted to kill Crouchback right now in a very long time, since Voldemort. He somehow kept this off his face, but was unable to keep it out of his voice. "They hit me, most often with their hands, although my aunt once tried to hit me with a frying pan. They denied me food. They confined me to a cupboard for long periods of time."

"A cupboard?" Crouchback repeated. " I seem to recall something about you living in a cupboard when you were quite young. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"You had a cousin, did you not? Roughly the same age as you?"

"Yes."

"Did you have a good relationship with him, at least? It would seem logical that the two of you, alone there with these terrible people, would form some sort of bond against them?"

"No, that didn't happen."

"No? That's strange. Didn't they treat him like they treated you?"

"No. They liked him just fine."

"So it was you, then. Something about you that made you unlovable."

"Apparently." Harry's teeth were so tightly clenched together that his jaw was beginning to hurt.

"So is this some sort of character flaw? That people can't love you? Because it seems, at least from what I've read in the _Prophet_, that you can't maintain a relationship any longer than one night. Snape doesn't want you. You're always being seen with someone different. Do you have a theory as to why no one wants you, Potter?"

"Plenty of people have wanted me," Harry forced out.

"Oh, I don't mean in their beds, Potter. I mean in a long-lasting, meaningful, committed relationship. What is it about you that is so fundamentally flawed that people can't get past?"

"I think we've exhausted this topic of conversation," Dingwell said firmly, touching Harry's hand again, hoping to relax the boy's rigid posture.

"Well, let's talk about Lucius Malfoy then," Crouchback said almost cheerfully.

"Finally!" Harry said, relieved beyond measure to have moved on from this topic.

So Crouchback started in on Harry about the murder, asking the same questions over and over again, trying to couch the questions differently to trip Harry up. Crouchback reveled in the opportunity to take his sponsored revenge out on the man who had dropped a dime on him and every question was asked with an aggressively belligerent tone, and every answer was met with disbelieving scorn. Crouchback outright called Harry a liar several times.

The questioning went on and on and on. Harry had the truth on his side, and he maintained his innocence throughout, describing over and over where he'd been the night Lucius Malfoy was murdered and his theories on what Lucius Malfoy had been involved in. When Harry's temper began to get particularly frayed, Ding would caution him to keep his cool with a touch of his hand. Finally, after four hours, Ding said, "We've gone over the same ground so many times it's churned to mud. If you have nothing new, I think it's time to end this."

Crouchback made a great show of perusing the copious notes he'd made in the last several hours, looking closely at each page, pretending to read them all. Finally, he sat back, "I think we're finished here today. You, of course, are still being held under the conditions of your release. You are not to leave the confines of the home of Severus Snape. You are subject to being called back here for questioning at our request." Crouchback stood up. "I'll have someone come in and release you."

Crouchback walked to the door. "Enjoy the rest of your vacation, Potter," he said with a smirk, and then he left, closing the door behind him.

"Bastard," Harry spit, rattling his hands, still held captive on the table. He was losing feeling in them from having to keep his arms raised up on the table for hours.

"Calm down, Harry," Ding advised. "It's over. You were spectacular. They got nothing."

Harry sat back with a sigh. "Yeah, great. Nothing's changed though, has it? I'm still a prisoner. They still think I did it, and they're still going to try to prove it. I am _so_ tired. Are we going to get out of here soon?"

Harry's question was answered by Snape's arrival. He freed Harry from the restraints and said, "Let's go home."

Unable to look at him, Harry stood up and shook his hands at his side to regain feeling in them. He now had to go home with a man who had just listened to him reveal details about his childhood, his sexual history, and Harry's interest in him, an interest he had spurned for years. Things just kept getting worse.

"Would it be possible for me to speak with Blades while I'm here?" Harry asked, facing his lawyer but actually speaking to Snape.

"I will see if he can see you," Severus promised, and he left them in the sheltered confines of the interview room.

##########

Harry breathed a huge sigh of relief when the aurors escorting him back to Snape's removed the handcuffs and left them. He rubbed absently at his wrists – he thought sure he'd be feeling phantom restraints for some time.

"Would you like tea?" Snape asked gruffly.

"Hmm?" Harry asked, startled out of his reverie.

"Tea?" Snape repeated.

"Sure. I guess."

Snape's ill humor softened a bit at the very weary set to the boy's shoulders. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"I'm glad that's over."

"You did a fine job with Crouchback," Snape noted.

"You saw all that, huh? I was kind of hoping they'd not let you in."

Harry followed Snape into the kitchen, where the older man began to gather things for tea. "I'm glad that Ding prepared me as well as he did," Harry noted. "I didn't appreciate it while it was happening, but it certainly made it easier to get through today."

"I thought that was what his touching you was for," Snape snarked.

Harry stared at Snape. It sounded like the man was . . . jealous. Nah. Couldn't be. Snape didn't want him. Harry sat at the table and rested his forehead on the surface. "I am knackered."

"Perhaps you'd prefer to rest, then?"

"No," Harry said to the table. "Tea would be good first."

The two men were silent for several moments before Snape asked, "Do you mind if I ask you what you spoke with Blades about?"

Harry sat up. "I resigned."

"What?"

"The writing was on the wall, was it not? His bringing in Crouchback told me loud and clear just what he thought of me. While I was in there being _interrogated_, I was composing my letter of resignation in my head."

"Do you think you are being rash? Perhaps if you waited a bit, until this situation has blown over . . ."

"No," Harry interrupted. "This has been a long time in coming. And it's not just Blades. It's everyone. Including you."

"Me?" Snape questioned.

"How long have I been an auror?" Harry asked.

"A little more than five years."

"And how long will I have to be an auror before you trust me to do the job?"

"I am not sure what you mean. I _do _trust you."

"No, you don't. And it's not just you. Everyone treated me the same – like I was a child trying to force my way into the grown-up world. My opinions were ignored, my instincts were disregarded. Time after time, I proved that I could do my job, and it never made any difference. I was given grunt assignments, and when they turned into something bigger, something important, they were taken away and given to _more experienced_ aurors. I'm tired of it."

"Harry, we can change things. I admit that what you say is true, that I am guilty of these things. But I can change. I want to change."

"It's not just that," Harry said, running a hand through his hair. "I wanted to be an auror so I could help people. It feels like I don't help anyone. We're always getting there after the crime has been committed, when it's already too late. This thing with Eliza really got to me. I saved her from a bad situation, and she's still dead. That's like . . . the opposite of helping people."

"What happened to Eliza Godfrey was not your fault," Snape insisted.

"Maybe," Harry conceded. "But I certainly didn't help her much, did I?"

"Still, to throw your entire career away . . ."

"Frankly, I don't see that I'm throwing away anything of value."

"But what will you do now?"

"Well, first, obviously, I need to get this murder charge resolved. And then I'm going to spend some time rebuilding my flat. I've talked to Hermione and Ron about setting up shop together, running a security outfit, you know, security systems, for wizards' homes and businesses. Maybe this way, we can prevent bad things from happening. Ron and Hermione both need time to settle things at their current employment, so we'll likely not have anything up and running for at least six months."

"You've thought about this quite a lot," Snape noted.

"I've had a lot of time to think lately."

"And what if . . ."

"What if what?" Harry challenged. "What if I don't beat this murder charge? That is not an option I'm going to consider even for a second."

"I believe that you will be successful. You are, after all, innocent. And you certainly have a hands-on attorney."

Harry stared at Snape for a long time. What was going on in that man's head? Everything he said led Harry to believe that Snape was jealous of Harry's perfectly innocent interaction with his solicitor. Taking a huge risk, Harry said, "You sound as though you're jealous."

Snape stared right back. "And if I am?" he said, his tone challenging.

"If you . . ." Harry asked, bewildered by this turn of events. Was Snape playing some kind of game? He'd never shown any interest in Harry, had turned every advance he'd made aside without hesitation. "I am so confused," he confessed. "And I think it's possible that I'm hallucinating. I think maybe what I really need is to sleep for a bit. When I wake up, if I'm still having the same hallucination, then maybe we could talk?"

"Yes, we certainly should," Snape agreed. "You rest well."

##########

Snape quietly entered the spare bedroom, where Harry continued to sleep soundly. Harry had been asleep all afternoon, and Snape was hesitant to wake him now. He had news, however, that he knew Harry would want to hear. He set the cup he was carrying down on the bedside table, sat on the bed beside the young man, and shook his arm gently. "Harry," he said. "Harry, wake up."

Harry was slow in waking, and he blinked his green eyes several times to clear the sleep from them. "What time is it?" he asked, making no attempt to sit up. He didn't have his glasses on, and the bedside clock was unreadable without them.

"It's a little after six. I'm sorry to wake you."

Harry stretched languidly, and Snape couldn't help but admire the lines of his young, firm body. Harry, nearly blind, didn't notice his interest. "I haven't slept that well in weeks. What's going on?"

"Your solicitor just phoned. He has some news. Come, sit up." Snape handed Harry his glasses, and once Harry had struggled to a sitting position, handed him the cup. "Coffee. I thought it might help."

"Thank you," Harry said. "Tell me."

"Graham Gaston was arrested a short time ago. He was intoxicated or high or both in a Muggle pub, brandishing a weapon. I've called Blades. He's going to have Guy Lemongrass intercede with the Muggle authorities so that they will perform testing on the man's weapon. Ballistics I believe they call it. They will be doing this immediately – Lemongrass will be given the authority to _persuade_ them to do it quickly. If the results of this testing establish that Gaston's gun fired the bullet that killed Lucius Malfoy, he will be picked up by aurors as soon as he is released from his current confinement. He will be brought to the Ministry for questioning. Under veritaserum."

Harry took a moment to process this. "Blades is helping me?"

"Despite what you think of his choice of interrogator, he _is _on your side. He asked me to tell you that he has not yet filed your letter of resignation. He would like you to consider changing your mind."

"I appreciate what he's doing, but I'm not going to change my mind."

"I didn't think you would."

"So now we wait?"

"Now we wait," Snape confirmed.

Harry looked shyly up at Snape. "Can we talk now?"

Snape nodded. "Let's. Shall we adjourn to the sitting room?"

That was probably a good idea – much more neutral and much less intimate than here on the bed.

##########

They sat in chairs facing each other, each waiting for the other to begin. The silence became awkward quickly. Finally, Snape bit the proverbial bullet.

"Before we begin, I must ask once more. Is there any chance that you will reconsider your decision to leave the MLE?"

"No," Harry said firmly. "That chapter of my life is over."

"Good," Snape surprised him by saying.

"Glad to be shed of me?" Harry asked, more than a little hurt.

"No. I am glad because a relationship between us, when I held a position of authority over you, would have been more than a little inappropriate."

Harry stared at Severus. He was doing it again – saying things that on their face seemed so obvious, but given their history didn't make any sense. He decided he didn't want to misunderstand anything here – it was too important.

"Severus," he said, quietly and earnestly, "I'm not sure what's going on here. When you say things like that, I think . . . I think there's a chance for us to have something, the kind of relationship that I've always wanted to have. But then I remember all the times I've offered myself to you, and you've declined without thought, and I think that I'm just getting my hopes up again. I don't want to get my hopes up again, Severus, so I ask you to tell me straight out what it is you mean."

"I mean, that with you employed elsewhere, the last barrier has been removed. There are no longer any reasons to deny that I am attracted to you, that I have been since your sixth year at Hogwarts if I am being totally honest, and that I am very interested in attempting to see if we can make a go of a romantic relationship."

Harry swallowed audibly. "You . . . you want to be . . . with me?"

Severus nodded. "I would like to try."

Harry's emotions were churning inside him like a tornado. The one thing he'd always wanted was being offered to him, without strings and without hesitation. He should be over the moon. He should be leaping about the room, or at least leaping at Severus before the man came to his senses and changed his mind, but something was holding him back, some concern which he would have thought irrelevant but for the massive upheaval he'd experienced in his life lately.

"Can I be honest with you?" he asked.

"I would prefer it actually."

"I should be so happy that you're willing to give me a go. I know that. I should just throw myself at you and close my eyes, and hope for the best."

"But?" Severus urged.

"But I'd given up on you. I'd told myself that I was being stupid to keep this up for so long without any encouragement. I told myself I was going to get over it and move on."

"Are you telling me I'm too late?" Severus asked with obvious fear in his voice.

"No," Harry hastened to reassure him. "No, I _said_ it. That didn't mean I believed it. But if we're going to do this, I want to . . . I guess . . . reassure myself of a couple of things."

"All right," Severus said, sitting back in relief. "I will do what I can to reassure you. What are your concerns?"

"When I was in school," Harry began, "you thought that I was lazy and incompetent and not very smart."

Snape nodded his agreement with this statement.

"And while I willingly admit that I wasn't the most devoted student, you must also admit that you never gave me a chance in your class. From the very first moment we met, you went out of your way to belittle me publicly and created an atmosphere where there was no chance that I could succeed. Not only did you criticize my every move and destroy or ignore my work when I did manage to produce something halfway decent, you allowed Draco Malfoy to sabotage and harass me to the point where it was nearly impossible for me to even function in your class."

"Surely you realize why that was now," Snape said quietly.

"Of course I do. Well, I do think you carried things a little too far, but that's not the point I'm trying to make. That's the past, and I'm pretty sure we've moved beyond that. And as much as some of your actions might have been exaggerated for the benefit of others, I think that you really believed that you knew me and that I _was _arrogant and attention-seeking and dim. And then we began to work together, and you treated me the same, as though my opinions were worthless and my work unimportant, and it was obvious that you didn't trust me with anything but the most mundane assignment."

"Harry . . ."

"No," Harry said. "Let me finish. Please. As much as I have wanted you for years, I'm not sure I can get involved with someone who values me so little. It's tempting to just disregard that, but I wouldn't be doing myself any favors long-term starting a relationship with someone who doesn't trust me to tie my shoes properly."

Harry was done, and he sat back. "I'm finished."

Snape thought for a moment before responding. "I confess that you are right about many of your statements. I have thought all of those things about you. But I have also come to see a new you in the last few weeks. You were right about Lucius Malfoy. Only _you _saw what he was and had the gumption to go after him. _You _pieced together everything that he did, and _you _pursued him with conviction when everyone around you told you you were paranoid and throwing your career and your life away. And you very nearly did. How could I watch what you've done and not come to see that you are intelligent and persistent and dedicated? This you that is before me now . . . that is the you that I see now. You are an impressive individual, and I was a fool not to have seen that before, when I could have encouraged your academic pursuits and your professional advancement. I would not blame you if you could not forgive me for the way that I have treated you, but I assure you that will not be an issue now."

Harry smiled at him, nearly overcome with relief to hear these sincere words. He was pretty sure he would have embarked on a relationship with Snape no matter what, but it was profoundly reassuring to hear him say that he no longer thought of Harry as a juvenile delinquent.

"Thank you," he said warmly. "That means a lot to me."

"Were there other concerns?" Snape asked.

Harry paused for a moment to think about how to phrase this next bit. "Remember that night when you were at the club, and you . . . helped me when I was jacked on the adrenaline?" he asked.

Snape, of course, knew exactly what he was talking about. "I am not likely to forget that night any time soon. As a matter of fact, I use that memory as inspiration during moments of self-pleasure," he said with a completely straight face.

Harry's heart rate sped up a little bit at the blatant sexual reference, and he swallowed once before continuing. "You said something that night, and it sort of concerns me now."

"What did I say?"

"You said that you never bottom."

Snape's cheeks colored an adorable shade of pink.

"I don't mind bottoming on occasion," Harry went on, "but I prefer to top. I don't mind some kind of even split, but I can't imagine a future that includes only a receptive role in bed."

Snape looked down, then away across the room, apparently unable to meet Harry's eye. "I might have been fibbing about that."

"You _might _have been?"

"No, I definitely was," Snape said, looking at Harry now. "I thought that letting you bugger me that night would have been completely inappropriate. So I told you I didn't bottom."

"But you do?"

"I do," Snape confirmed.

"Do you top?"

Snape nodded.

"So you'd be willing to . . . take turns?"

"I would."

Harry smiled at him. "Are we really doing this?"

"It appears that we are."

"Wow," Harry said. "I thought I'd never see this day. Can we take things slow? Maybe hold off for a bit before we actually do the deed?"

"Not as eager as you thought?" Snape asked, wondering if he'd just been insulted.

"No!" Harry hastened to assure him. "I just . . . with everyone else, I've always just jumped right to the sex. Because it didn't mean anything. The sex was all there was, and once it was over, there was no reason to stay. I don't want that with you. I want to have a real relationship that's based on something other than this incredibly strong physical attraction I have for you. When we have sex, I want it to be after we've established something deeper and more meaningful. Do you mind waiting, just for a bit?"

"I can wait," Snape said. "I am not a teenager with no control over my urges. But may I make a request?"

"Sure."

"When we . . . 'do the deed,' as you so eloquently phrased it, I would like you to wear the outfit that you were wearing on the night we first were intimate with each other."

Harry smiled slyly at Snape. "You liked that, did you?"

"I found you incredibly arousing."

Harry was beginning to get aroused himself now. "You realize that outfit was destroyed in the fire, right? I can find something really close, though. I don't think you'll be disappointed."

"I have faith in that," Snape said. "Shall we set a date for our first tryst? To give me something to look forward to?"

"Sure. Not too long, though." He looked appraisingly at Snape. "I can't wait forever to sample that."

Snape blushed and looked away.

"How about one week after the day I'm cleared? I know that could be a very long time, and if the worst happens and I get sent away, we may have to grab a quickie in the loo before I go."

"With any luck, this whole mess will be over with soon," Snape observed. "But one week from that wonderful date will suffice."

They stared at each other for a moment, until Harry said, "I know we said no sex, but I was wondering . . ."

"Yes?" Snape prompted.

"Do you think that includes snogging?"

"Why, no, I don't believe it does. Was there a particular reason that you were asking?"

"Mmm," Harry confirmed. He got out of his chair, approached Snape and dropped to his knees between the man's spread thighs. "I want to taste you." He leaned in and pressed his lips to Snape's.

The kiss consumed them totally. Neither of them really realized when Harry pulled Snape out of his chair and they both went to the floor, rolling like teenagers on the rug and kissing passionately. When they finally parted, Harry lay atop Snape's prone form, and they were both panting.

"Why are we on the floor?" Snape asked.

"Dunno," Harry asked, well beyond caring where he was. "I'm beginning to rethink that whole stupid waiting idea."

Snape kissed him again. "Should I try to convince you to wait or not to wait?" Severus was willing to follow Harry's lead on this, but before any decisions could be made, the telephone rang. "Let it ring," Harry said into his mouth.

"It could be Dingwell," Snape pointed out.

Harry sighed and reached up onto the table beside the sofa, groping for the phone. Once he found it, he handed it to Severus. Severus greeted the caller, then handed the receiver back to Harry.

"Hello."

It was Dingwell. Harry held the phone between his and Severus' ears so they both could hear the solicitor's excited exclamation. "Harry, ballistics testing proves it was Gaston's gun that killed Malfoy!"

"That's great news," Harry agreed, then licked a trail up Severus' jaw bone. Severus shivered.

"He'll be in Muggle court tomorrow morning," Ding continued, "on the myriad of charges that he's facing there."

Severus ran a hand down Harry's back, stopping to cup his arse and squeeze gently. Harry gasped and bit gently on Severus' neck.

"He's expected to be released by noon. Aurors will follow him when he leaves, and they will pick him up once they can do so unobserved and bring him to the Ministry for questioning."

Harry began to suckle the spot where he'd bitten Severus. Severus used both hands to grasp Harry by both arse cheeks and hold him close enough to create friction when he thrust his cock between their bodies.

"They've applied for and obtained permission to use veritaserum during the interrogation. This will likely all be over with by tomorrow tonight, Harry. You'll be a free man."

"Wow, that's . . ." Harry groaned, pressing himself down into the other man, then tried to gather himself. "That's awesome, Ding. Can I be there while they question him?"

"Well I'm sure they won't let you take part in the questioning, if that's what you mean. They likely won't even let you watch, since you're technically still a suspect yourself. But we could be on premises, so that once they've satisfied themselves of his guilt, you could be released from their custody immediately."

"And have this stupid anklet removed?" Harry asked, trying to match Snape's thrusts with his own and still keep his mind on this conversation.

"Of course. I'll let you know once they have him, and we'll get some aurors over there to fetch you to the Ministry."

"That sounds great, Ding," Harry said. "Thank you so much for everything."

"Just doing my job, kid. I'll talk to you later."

Harry hung up and tossed the phone aside, then attacked Snape's mouth with his own. When he could pull his mouth away, he said, "I want you to fuck me, Severus. I want it so bad."

Severus was more than willing to comply, but before he could suggest that they take this to the bedroom, or strip the boy here and take him on the floor, someone knocked on the door of the flat.

"Ignore them," Harry ordered, slipping sideways off Severus and placing a knee between the other man's thighs, bringing his leg into even closer contact with Severus' raging need. Severus whimpered and thrust up roughly, begging his self-control not to dessert him now. The knock sounded again, followed moments later by the phone ringing, and Harry just knew that Hermione was on the other side of the door, and probably Ron as well, and that she would not go away without seeing Harry. Harry slumped against Severus, going boneless with defeat.

"It's gotta be Hermione," he groaned. "She won't leave."

Snape pulled himself out from under Harry. "I'm afraid we failed the first test of our resolve to wait. Had she not appeared when she did . . ."

"Yeah, we'd be fucking like rabbits right now," Harry said, clearly disappointed at this turn of events. He got slowly to his feet, his very obvious erection making the movement awkward. "Go away," Harry ordered his erection. "Hermione's here."

That seemed to do the trick, and Harry began to deflate. Snape got off the floor as well and sat on the sofa, bringing a book into his lap to cover what was left of his excitement. Harry grinned cheekily at him, smoothed down the front of his pants, adjusting his half-hard cock so it wouldn't be as noticeable, and went to answer the door.

"Harry!" Hermione said, smiling widely. Ron stood just behind her, a big bag of takeaway food in his hand. "Arthur told us! This is great news!" She flung herself into his arms and hugged him tightly for about three-tenths of a second, then pulled away very quickly, looking embarrassed. She looked at Harry, then at Severus, who was sitting serenely on the sofa, his cheeks flushed and his breathing a little faster than it should be for a man just sitting and reading. She looked back at Harry, expecting to see a self-conscious flush on his cheeks as well. She was surprised to see a cheeky lifting of his eyebrows and a knowing leer. She couldn't help but smile – she knew how badly Harry had wanted Severus for years now, and it looked like he was finally going to get his chance.

Hoping he had his body back under control completely, Hermione hugged him again, relieved to _not _feel anything unusual this time, and whispered into his ear, "I'm sorry. If I'd known what we'd be interrupting, I would have stayed away. Should we go?"

Harry hugged her tightly, loving his friend with all his heart for understanding just how important this was. But the moment had already been ruined. "Nah, you might as well come in. We just got a little carried away."

"I'm so happy for you," she said, kissing his cheek before pulling away.

Oblivious to everything Hermione had just figured out, Ron smiled at Harry and set his burden down. "Congratulations, mate," he said, "I knew they'd come to their senses eventually." He threw an arm around Harry's neck, pulled Harry's head close to his chest, and rubbed his knuckles furiously against the shorter man's scalp.

Harry yelped and twisted out of his grasp. "Get off me, you big oaf!" Harry said, but he was smiling broadly, happy that his friends were here to help him celebrate.

Severus stood up, and Harry discretely checked the front of the other man's trousers – all evidence of their earlier tryst had disappeared. Harry thought Severus was going to excuse himself from their company, so he was surprised when Severus said, "I'll get the plates."

##########

Ron and Hermione stayed for two hours. Dinner had been accompanied by two bottles of wine and had been followed by celebratory firewhiskey. Ron was a little tipsy when they left. Severus, too, seemed to be feeling a little extra happy, and he put an arm around Harry's shoulders and hugged him. "Where were we?" He ducked his head down to kiss Harry, but Harry weaseled out of his grip.

"We were deciding to wait."

Severus pouted. "Waiting doesn't sound like fun."

"I want you to remember the first time we make love, Severus. I'm not sure you will if we do it now."

"You may be right," Severus conceded. He drew Harry into his embrace again, this time content for a simple hug.

Harry let himself be held for a minute, then said, "Ding said I'll likely be released tomorrow, get this anklet off, and I'll be free to go."

"Do you _want _to go?" Severus asked into his hair.

Harry lay his head on Snape's chest. "I currently don't have anywhere _to_ go. Remember? Explosion? Fire? Bye bye flat?"

"You are welcome here as long as you want to stay."

Harry looked up into Severus' dark eyes. "Thank you. If I stay here, are you going to be angry if I lose all self-control and insist that you fuck me before the week is up?"

"How could I be angry about something that would give me such great pleasure?" He kissed Harry's forehead. "But we will attempt to be strong." He pushed Harry away from him.

"Now get away from me before _I_ lose control and throw you to the floor."

##########

Harry woke the following day happier than he had been in a long while. There was every possibility that he would be a free man today, and he had that and this new relationship with Severus to look forward to. The wait for consummation was going to be exquisite torture, assuming that they could last, and Harry hoped the clock started running today.

He got out of bed, visited the loo, then went out into the kitchen, where Severus was already seated, drinking tea and reading the _Prophet. _Harry hesitated in the door for a moment, just marveling at the fact that this man, this man that he had wanted for as long as he could remember, was now his. Unable to keep himself from smiling, he approached Severus and leant over to give him a good morning kiss.

"Good morning," Severus said. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did. You?"

"Very well, thank you."

"All right if I make coffee?" Harry asked.

"Of course it's all right. I told you when you came here that you should make yourself at home."

Harry gathered the coffee and the filter and started the coffee brewing. "Have you eaten?" he asked. "Can I make you some breakfast?"

"That is not necessary," Snape assured him.

"I know," Harry said. "I want to. Please. It's the least I can do."

Severus couldn't resist Harry when the young man was looking at him like that. "All right."

"What would you like?"

"Whatever you feel like will be fine with me."

So Harry set to work. He chopped mushrooms and onions. He cooked bacon and chopped that as well. Then he mixed eggs and cream until they were frothy, dumped them into a saute pan, threw in the things he'd chopped, added some cheese, and cooked the whole mess up together. While it cooked, he toasted several slices of bread. Once the scramble was finished, he brought everything to the table, topped off Snape's tea, and sat down with a ravenous appetite.

They ate in relative silence. Once Snape's plate was clean, he said, "That was delicious. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Harry said brightly. He made to get up, but Severus waved him back down. "No, you cooked. I shall clean up."

"All right," Harry agreed happily and sat back in his chair, sipping his coffee, content to just sit and watch the other man move.

When Severus had finished, he turned to Harry and said, "What shall we do now?"

Harry stood until he was nearly standing on Snape's toes. "I have some ideas," he said, his voice low and husky. He reached up and kissed the other man, and they were soon lost in the feel of each other's mouths on their own. Hands joined the party, with Snape's threading through Harry's hair to hold him in place and Harry's roaming up and down Snape's back.

When their mouths finally parted, Harry rested his forehead on Snape's chest, panting heavily, willing down the erection straining the front of his jeans.

"You are an incorrigible tease," Severus accused, obviously fighting the same problem Harry was.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered.

"Don't be," Severus said. "Kissing you is worth it. It will make the night that we finally give in that much sweeter. That being said, if you don't get away from me now, I will need a cold shower."

Harry chuckled, pressed a kiss to Severus' breastbone, and pulled away. "So what _else_ can we do to pass the time? I'll go spare waiting for news!"

"You can tell me about your new flat. I know you have ideas floating around up there," Snape said, tapping the side of Harry's head. "Tell me what you plan to change from your prior flat and what you plan to keep. And if we exhaust that topic, you can tell me about your plans for your warding business. That should get us through to the phone call."

##########

The phone call finally came, just after noon. After Harry spoke with Ding and learned that Gaston had been released by the Muggles and subsequently immediately picked up by aurors, Severus called Blades and arranged for a pair of aurors to come and pick up Harry. Half an hour later, Harry was being handcuffed and escorted from the flat.

Harry was brought to the Ministry and installed in a conference room. This time, when his hands were uncuffed, he was not shackled to the magic-restricting bar on the table, for which he was extremely grateful. He was left in the room with Dingwell and Severus to wait, once again, while Gaston was interrogated under veritaserum.

Harry had expected it to take hours, but after only ninety minutes, Ding was pulled out into the hallway. He was gone for seven minutes (Harry timed him), during which time Harry paced relentlessly around the small room.

When Ding returned to the room, he was smiling widely. "It's over, Harry. He's confessed to everything."

Harry flung himself into Severus' arms, and the taller man held him tightly in relief. Ding let them have their moment, then said, "Have a seat. I'll fill you in on what I know."

Both men sat across from the solicitor. They held hands beneath the table while they listened to the tale. "Gaston had a Blue Dragon habit. His first exposure to the drug was at the Pissing Oyster. He was in beverage distribution, and the club was on his route. He talked Miles Osbourne into supplying him on credit, and he worked up quite a debt. When payment was demanded, and Gaston couldn't come up with the cash, his step-daughter was taken as incentive. After you rescued Eliza, she was murdered to keep her from identifying the men who had taken her. Eliza's mum was a casualty of simply being a witness."

"It was Malfoy, right?" Harry asked.

"Indirectly. He wasn't involved directly in the kidnaping or the murders, but he hired both jobs done. Gaston has provided the names of everyone he knew who was involved in both the drug selling and the other criminal activities. Those who are wizards will be arrested by aurors, and the Ministry will work with muggle law enforcement to arrest those who are not."

"Did Gaston tie Malfoy to any of this at all?" Harry asked, beginning to despair that Lucius Malfoy was so far above the action that his name wouldn't even be sullied by all of this.

"Yes, I'm getting there," said Ding patiently. "Gaston has confessed to meeting with Lucius Malfoy regarding the placing of an explosive device in your building, Harry. This was how Gaston was to pay off his debt for the drugs. Gaston did not plant that device himself, because he did not have the necessary expertise, but he did hire the man who did, at Malfoy's behest. Somehow Gaston learned that Malfoy was responsible for killing his wife and step-daughter, and he killed Malfoy because of it. So that's it. Everything tied up in a nice neat package with a pretty bow on top."

"You were right," Severus said to Harry. "You were right about everything. Lucius was behind the drugs, and he was responsible for Eliza Godfrey's kidnaping and the murders. You were the only one who truly saw him for what he was. And no one would listen to you."

Harry smiled grimly at Severus, unable to feel any satisfaction about being right: Eliza Godfrey and her mother were still dead. "So Miles Osbourne is going to be arrested as well?"

"Yes," Ding confirmed. "Not for what he did to you, unfortunately, but he will see substantial jail time. Gaston has provided plenty of information which will demonstrate that Osbourne was a major distributor of an incredibly dangerous and addictive substance. He will not see daylight for a long, long time."

Harry sat back in relief, glad that Miles was going to pay for _something_. "So am I free to go?"

"Your property is being retrieved and should be delivered here any moment," Ding assured him. "Someone should be in momentarily to remove the anklet. After that, you are free to go."

"Thank you, Ding," Harry said, grateful tears in his eyes. "I don't know how I could have gotten through this without you."

"Thank me after you get my bill," Ding joked.

"You were worth every penny," Harry said fervently. "But I hope you don't take it personally if I tell you I hope never to see you again. In a professional capacity, at least."

Ding smiled. "I don't take it personally at all."

A knock sounded on the door, and an auror entered, carrying a bag. Harry signed a form indicating the return of his property, including his cell phone and his wand, the anklet was removed, and Harry all but ran from the building.

##########

When they returned to Snape's flat, Harry didn't want to go inside. He'd been cooped up for several days, and the sunshine on his face felt so wonderful. Severus convinced him to come inside by promising to pack a picnic supper which they could take wherever Harry wanted. Harry agreed, and Severus began to regret the offer when Harry asked him if he had a broom of his own. Severus didn't, but Harry soon rectified that by flooing to Diagon Alley to replace his own broom, lost in the fire, and to buy an identical model for Severus.

Harry had to hold himself back from zooming at top speed through they sky once he got on his broom – Severus wasn't as fond of flying as Harry was. He led his lover to the field he'd visited the night Lucius Malfoy had been killed, and they ate their picnic under the tree. After they'd eaten, they stretched out under the tree, snogging and talking and snogging some more. When it began to get dark, they packed up and returned to Severus's flat.

"It feels good to be free," Harry said with a sigh as he let himself fall onto the sofa.

"Will you be staying here with me until your flat is rebuilt?" Severus asked, sitting next to him.

"I'd like to," Harry said. "I can't wait to meet with the architect! Tomorrow I'm gonna call the guy I used before. I hope he can meet with me soon. I loved that place." He paused for a moment before saying shyly, "If things work out well, you know, between us . . . while my place is being rebuilt, I was wondering if you might want to move in there with me once it's done. Unless you really like living _here_. I'd understand, you know, if you didn't want to uproot yourself just for this . . . whatever it is."

Harry stared down at his hands as they fiddled with the hem of his shirt, unable to look at Severus while he waited for a response to his invitation.

"Harry," Severus finally said, and Harry gathered his courage and looked up. "This flat is nothing more than a place to rest my head at night. If things go as I hope they will with us, then _whom _I reside with is going to be so much more important than _where _I reside. If you still want me when the time comes, I will leave here without hesitation."

Harry beamed a bright smile at Severus. "Brilliant! Do you want to meet with the architect with me?"

"It is _your_ home, Harry."

"But if you're living there, I want you to have some input into the design."

"I will be happy with whatever you decide. I told you the whom is more important than the where."

"Okay," Harry said happily, snuggling up against Severus' side. "But I'll show you the plans before I decide anything."

Snape drew him in closer.

"When are you going back to work?" Harry asked.

Severus sighed. "Monday, I suppose."

"You don't sound very excited."

"Your embarking on new challenges has made me rethink my own life, I suppose."

"You're not happy being an auror?"

"I've never really been _happy _at any profession," Severus confessed. "I was through with teaching, and Kingsley made me feel wanted and needed by the MLE, and I knew I'd be good at it, so it seemed a natural fit at the time."

"But not now?"

"I have become disenchanted with the system. Seeing the way it treated you, how it turned on you after all you have given. It has left a very bad taste in my mouth."

"What will you do?"

"I don't know as I will _do_ anything," Severus confessed. "Being unhappy with one's lot does not mean that one has the resources or the options required to make a change."

Harry suddenly sat up straight. "I've just had the best idea ever! You should come with me! With us! With Ron and Hermione and me! In the new business! You'd be of so much assistance to us."

Severus stared at the boy, surprised by how much he liked the thought of that idea. "You don't think we'd grow tired of each other with that much exposure?"

Harry raised his eyebrows in a suggestive leer. "Just how much exposure are we talking about?"

"Down boy," Severus said with a smile. "Are you serious about this offer?"

"I'm very serious. You'd be an incredible asset. And you could be a full partner, with Ron and Hermione and me."

Severus didn't need to think about this – it just felt so right. "You are not intending to begin this endeavor for a number of months."

"True. You could stay with the Ministry until then, or if you really don't want to keep on with them, you can just quit and become a kept man. _My_ kept man."

"Hmm, that sounds really intriguing. I'm really going to have to give some thought to my options now."

"You should _opt_ to get over here and kiss me," Harry ordered. Severus was more than happy to comply.

##########

Finally, _finally_, the week was over. Snape had gone to work each day, putting in long hours and coming home exhausted. Harry had met with his architect and was busy going over design books and furniture catalogs and carpet samples. He had a builder lined up to begin construction on his flat in two weeks and another team already working on repairs to the flats that had been damaged in the explosion. All of his tenants should be back in their homes within a month. His own flat would take at least a month longer than that.

Harry had also revisited the shop where he'd bought his performing clothes, and he'd put together an outfit he thought Severus was really going to like.

He'd made Severus a nice dinner, which the two of them ate after Severus returned home at eight. Both were antsy with anticipation for what was to come later, and they couldn't clear away the remains of their dinner fast enough.

"Would you like to soak in a hot bath for a bit?" Harry asked solicitously. Snape looked exhausted.

"That sounds heavenly. I wish that the tub were large enough for two."

"The one in my flat will be," Harry promised. "But you look like you need the time alone in any event. You know, if you're too tired, we can postpone this to another time."

"I appreciate your consideration and understanding, but thinking about what we would be doing here tonight has been the only thing keeping me going this week."

"Good," Harry said, happy he wouldn't have to wait much longer. "I'll go run the bath."

##########

Harry surveyed himself in the full-length mirror in Snape's bedroom. He looked just as he had when he'd been performing. The trousers were made of a shiny lime green leather and had been difficult to pull on they were so tight. The well-defined bulge at his groin left no need for any imagination on anyone's part concerning exactly what Harry was packing. It began to grow and twitch as Harry studied himself, and he took a few calming breaths, knowing from experience that trying to sport a full erection in incredibly tight trousers was anything but a pleasurable experience.

The shirt was a black mesh sleeveless tee, through which Harry could see his nipples, which had hardened at the scratchy feel of the material. He adjusted the material slightly, which caused the hard little nubs to poke out between holes in the mesh.

Harry thought Severus would like the effect.

He sat down and began to apply the makeup he'd also purchased earlier this week. After rouging up his cheeks, he outlined his eyes with a black pencil. He then took another black pencil and outlined his lips, then filled them in with black lipstick. He changed out the diamond stud earring in his ear lobe (he'd liked the earring and had never stopped wearing one in his lobe even after his undercover assignment had ended) for an earring that looked like a blood drop, then fed two small hoops, connected by a fine chain, through the holes on the top of his ears. He'd thought those holes might have grown closed, as he had not been wearing earrings in them, but the new rings slipped right in.

The hair next. Harry squirted a quantity of mousse into his hand and ran it through the hair on the top of his head, making it stand up straight. He then used his wand to color the tips an iridescent green.

The final touch was a silver chain he'd found with a large clunky snake pendant and a leather bracelet which he placed around his left wrist.

He was ready.

He checked himself out in the mirror one more time and almost didn't recognize himself. He sat on the bed, waiting for Severus to emerge.

##########

When he did, Harry stood up, unaccountably nervous. He'd known that people found him attractive in this outfit – he'd had ample evidence of that during his undercover assignment. And Severus had _asked_ him to dress up like this after all. Still, Harry didn't want to displease the man, not now, and despite how he thought he looked, he stood anxiously waiting for Severus' judgment.

Severus was tying the belt on his robe closed when he caught sight of the alluring young man in his bedroom. For the briefest of moments, Severus didn't recognize the tempting morsel, but of course it could only be Harry, his befuddled brain told him before he could make a fool of himself. His body became suddenly unable to function, and Severus' hands dropped to his sides, unaware that the belt he was tying came loose, allowing the sides of his robe to gape open and display his interest in this incredible specimen standing here, obviously nervous, though Merlin only knew why – he was . . . perfect.

"Liam Stockbridge," Severus breathed.

Harry looked down at his feet, anxiety overcoming his good sense. "Is it him you want, then?" he asked.

Severus tipped Harry's head up. "He is but one of the many facets of Harry Potter. I want to get to know them all. At some point, it is quite likely that I will want you in your Hogwarts uniform. I've a fantasy that involves a desk and the potions classroom. And then perhaps another time in your auror robes."

Harry's relieved smile beamed up at him. "So you . . . you like it then?"

"That would be an understatement," Severus said. "You look exquisite. Even better than I remember. May I touch you?"

"Only if I can return the favor," Harry said.

"Give me a head start," Severus requested. "This may take me some time."

Harry nodded his acceptance and vowed to himself to remain as still as possible while Severus explored.

Severus touched the ends of Harry's spiked hair as though afraid they may be sharp enough to cut. When he discovered they were not, he patted down the spikes and watched them return to their original position, amused. He then ran a finger over Harry's joined earrings, running his fingertip down the outer edge of Harry's ear until he reached the blood drop. Harry shivered.

Severus cupped Harry's face in both his large hands and studied the boy's face – the outlining that made the green eyes ever more vibrant. Those eyes were slitted now, but through those slits, Snape could see Harry's pupils blown wide with arousal. He rubbed his thumbs over the rouged cheekbones, then over the darkened lips. He wondered how they would taste, made up like this, and he leaned in to find out, but then stopped a hair's breadth away, teasingly.

Harry groaned in disappointed frustration.

Snape chuckled darkly, then turned his attention to the chain around Harry's neck. He picked up the snake pendant and studied it. Harry looked down, too, then said, in Parseltongue, "I thought of you when I bought it."

Severus shuddered and closed his eyes as the sibilant sounds washed over him. He'd always found the language of the snake incredibly arousing. He wondered if he'd made a mistake allowing Harry Potter to see just how deeply it affected him. But when he opened his eyes again, it was apparent that the younger man was just as deeply affected as Severus himself was. Severus decided he'd better finish his exploration before they both reached culmination too soon.

He dropped his hands to Harry's shoulders and felt the mesh rough on his palms. He flicked one exposed nipple, then the other, then ran his hands down Harry's sides.

Now for those intriguing trousers. They were just as interesting to touch as they were to look at, and Severus explored Harry's hips, and his tight arse, and then the enticing bulge in the front. Harry moaned almost painfully when Severus cupped that bulge, and the older man understood. "Would you like me to take these off?"

"Yes, please," Harry panted.

"How about the shirt first?"

Before Severus could react, Harry had whipped the shirt over his head.

"Eager, hmm?"

"You have no idea."

"Oh, I think I do." Severus undid the button on Harry's trousers and with a quick look of reassurance into those green eyes began to peel them off of Harry's frame. When he finally got them off, Harry stood before him in nothing but a snake pendant. Severus couldn't stop looking. "You are incredible."

"Is it my turn to touch now?" Harry asked, but didn't wait for permission before he was pushing Snape's robe to the floor. Reverently he cupped Snape's fully-erect member. "_This_ is incredible," he said.

Severus had noted a distinct wobbliness of his knees, and he suggested, "Perhaps the bed?"

"I like that idea," Harry said. Since he was closer, he backed toward Severus' king-sized bed, pulling the taller man with him. When they reached the bed, Harry pulled Severus down on top of him. "When I imagined us doing this, I thought it would be a slow, luxuriant fuck. But I don't think I can wait any longer, Severus. I've wanted you too long. You go ahead and top first. I'll take my turn another time. Right now, I want to feel you filling me up."

Severus groaned. He, too, would have liked this first time to be slow and intimate and satisfying on a spiritual level. But he also felt the need building inside and knew that it wasn't going to wait much longer. They could do slow and sweet next time.

"I have something that I wanted to give you," Severus said, pressing his weight down onto Harry, creating a delicious cavern between their bodies into which they both thrust their aching need.

"Unless it's about this long," he said, pulling his hand along the length of Severus' member, "and about this big," he grasped Snape's cock in his fist, "can it wait until later?"

"I think it's going to have to," Snape confessed. He dipped his head down and kissed Harry soundly. When he pulled away, it was to summon the lube from his bedside table. "Let's prepare you."

Severus was as thorough at this as he was about everything else in his life. Harry didn't bottom much, and he was very tight, and it took some time for Severus to feel that the young man's body was ready for him. When that moment finally arrived, Severus tossed the lube off the bed. He positioned himself for entry, but when he looked up at Harry's face, wanting to see his eyes dilate further when Severus took him, he was surprised to find those green orbs swimming in tears.

"What is wrong? I have not even entered you, and I have hurt you?"

"No," Harry hastily assured. "It's not that. It's just . . . I've waited for this moment for so long. I'd given up hope, and now we're here, in your bed, and it's a bit overwhelming. Could you . . .? No, forget it, I'm sorry. Keep going. I'll stop being stupid.

"Tell me what you need, Harry," Severus requested.

"Could you just . . . hold me? Just for a moment?"

Severus gladly took the young man into his arms and held him close. They lay that way for a time while Harry got his wild emotions under control. "All right, I'm done being a girl," Harry declared. "Now I need you to fuck me into the flat downstairs."

Severus wasted no time obeying this edict. He re-lubricated himself, positioned himself at Harry's entrance, locked onto those green eyes, mercifully tear-free now, and began to ease himself into the tight tunnel. By the time he'd bottomed out, he was nearly ready to explode.

"This will not take long," he complained.

"Then make it count," Harry said. "Fuck me hard, Severus."

Severus began to move, slowly at first, then picking up steam until he was slamming into Harry's unprotesting body. All too soon, Severus felt himself reach the pinnacle and he began to ejaculate with long, deep strokes.

Harry hadn't got there yet, so he reached down to fist his own cock, pulling several times and then coming with a shout.

The two men lay there, panting and sated. "I think I'm going to sleep now," Harry said.

"Go ahead, pet," Severus said, smoothing Harry's green-tinged hair down while simultaneously pulling out of Harry's arse and casting a cleaning spell. "I shall be right here when you awaken."

##########

And he was. Harry woke up in the circle of Snape's arms, and he was overcome with emotion once again as he looked up at the sleeping man. He hoped he got used to this feeling soon – bursting into tears frequently would probably wear thin with the man in a very short time. He lifted his head and kissed the man softly on the cheek, and Snape's eyes fluttered open.

"Hi," Harry said, unable to contain the smile that blossomed on his face.

Severus stretched a bit beneath Harry, then said, "Hi yourself."

Harry snuggled back down. "That was better than I dreamed of," he said. "Thank you."

"The pleasure was all mine, I assure you." Snape placed a kiss on top of Harry's head. "Can we sit up?"

"Sure," Harry said, though he would have preferred to keep cuddling. He scooted up so that he was sitting against the headboard. Snape sat up as well, then leaned away from Harry to retrieve something from the drawer of his bedside stand. He sat back up with a parcel wrapped in brown paper in his lap.

"This is for you," he said, but he did not hand it to Harry.

"Um, thanks," Harry said, slightly confused.

"I felt so badly when you lost everything in the fire. I could not replace your father's cloak or that infernal map, but I could do something about this." He ran a hand over the package. "I'm sure it's not complete, but I did the best I could. I hope that you like it."

Harry smiled encouragingly at him when Snape still didn't give him the package. He could see that Snape was reluctant to hand the gift over, probably unsure of its reception. Harry could have told him that if Severus had given him a box of dirt, he would have cherished it.

Finally, Snape lifted the package from his lap and handed it to Harry. Harry smiled at him again, set it in his own lap, and removed the brown wrapper. Inside he found a leather-bound book. Before opening it, he smiled up at Snape again.

Harry opened the cover and stopped breathing. Photos. There were photos here of his parents, the same photos which had been in the photo album that Hagrid had given him all those years ago. As he paged through, Harry didn't even try to stop the tears. He'd thought the photos were gone forever, but here they were again, returned to him by a man that he was now certain he loved beyond reason. He thought about telling Snape that, but figured he'd scare the man straight out of his own flat if he voiced that sentiment already. Instead he said, "How did you do this?"

"I remembered Hagrid going on and on in the staff room about how he'd written to friends and acquaintances of your parents for photographs. I floo called him and asked him for the names of those that he had contacted. He provided them to me, and I contacted them again, hoping that they still had the original photos and could make additional copies. They did, and . . . here we are."

Harry looked up at Severus. "You must have started this right after the fire, before we even . . . before there was anything between us."

"Yes," Severus confessed, looking embarrassed. "The idea occurred to me the day after you lost your home."

"So you were going to do this for me even before we became involved, when we were just co-workers?"

Severus nodded. "It saddened me terribly to think that the only remaining items you had from your parents had been destroyed. As I said, the cloak and the map were one-of-a-kind items, but the photographs I had a chance of replacing. And also . . . although I know that you cannot _replace_ Boris, when you are ready to find another friend, I would like to provide that to you as well."

Harry closed the photo album before his copious tears dropped on the photos and ruined them. "Thank you, Severus. This means so much to me."

"I did not receive return correspondence from a couple of the people that I contacted, so it's possible that a few more photos may still remain, but I think most of them are there."

"It's perfect, just the way it is," Harry assured him. He set the book aside, heaved himself over Severus so that he was straddling the man's lap, and kissed him soundly. "Thank you."

Snape ran his hands over Harry's bare back and bottom. "You are welcome, although I could not have done it without Hagrid's assistance."

"I hope you don't mind if I don't thank Hagrid the way I intend to thank you."

"I would quite frankly be rather upset if you did."

Harry kissed Snape again. "I'm a little hungry. You want some of those biscuits?"

"No, thank you. But you should help yourself."

"I'm going to go get them and eat them in bed," Harry proposed. "Then I'm going to go hunting for the crumbs. And if you're not too tired, I'm going to return the favor and bugger you until you can't remember your own name."

"That sounds like a most acceptable plan. Try not to be too long. I might have to start without you."

Harry smiled widely, then picked up the album, rubbing his hand reverently over the cover. "Thank you, Severus. I love . . . it. Very much." _Phew!_ Harry thought. _That was close. Good save, Harry._

"You are very welcome. Now go. The biscuits will not bring themselves to you. Oh wait – yes, they will. _Accio _chocolate biscuits." Severus held up his hand, and moments later the packet of biscuits was sailing into it. He thrust them at Harry.

"I love magic," Harry proclaimed as he dug in.

##########

**Prologue (364 days later): **

"I'm sorry I'm late," Harry called as he rushed through the door of the flat he'd shared with Severus since it had been rebuilt following the explosion that had claimed his prior home. The flat had been redesigned much along the same lines as his previous home, with a few improvements, such as a bigger rooftop garden, including a hot tub big enough for four but which only ever contained two, a small fireplace in the bedroom, and a larger fireplace in the sitting room which was glassed in and viewable from all four sides. Harry had also put more thought into the kitchen, since he intended to be home a lot more now that he wasn't on the prowl while waiting for his true love, and it contained the most modern Muggle appliances and conveniences. He and Severus both liked to cook, and the kitchen was the most used room in the house, rivaled only by the bedroom.

A large gray cat sauntered across the room in greeting. "Hola, Manuel," Harry greeted him. True to his word, Severus had brought the cat home from the shelter the day after he'd moved in with Harry, and he'd become the instant head of the family. Content now that both of his subordinates were present and accounted for, the cat butted his head against Harry's shin and wove around his ankles as Harry went in search of his lover.

Harry stopped short when he entered the dining room. The table was set with their best dinnerware, crystal goblets gleaming on the white tablecloth. Candles flittered in their silver holders, and a bowl of lilies occupied the center.

"Severus?" he asked, stunned by what he was seeing. "Are you here?"

The man himself appeared from the kitchen, wearing an apron that Harry had given him that ordered the reader to Kiss the Cook. "I'm here," he said. "Welcome home."

After Harry had obeyed the apron, he said, "Sorry I'm late. The Cantwells are a little thick. I had to explain the system to them three times, and I still won't be surprised if they call with questions when they arm it tonight."

"You are forgiven," Severus assured him, pulling the younger man into his embrace, tucking Harry's head under his chin and inhaling his rich and familiar scent.

"What's all this?" Harry asked into his chest.

"This," said Severus, "is a celebration."

"Of anything in particular?"

"Of us. It has been one year today."

Harry looked up at Severus. "It has? One year today since . . . what?"

"Since you and I consummated this relationship."

"Oh," Harry said, snuggling back into his lover's embrace. "That's nice."

Severus stiffened a little in Harry's arms. "I thought it an occasion worth celebrating."

"Of course it is," Harry assured him, pulling away again to ensure Severus saw how earnest he was. "It's just . . . I'm not sure how I would have picked a date to represent the start of our relationship. I'd wanted you for a long time, since I was in sixth year probably. And then there was that night at the club, when you . . . you know, _helped_ me. Although I guess that doesn't count, since there really wasn't anything between us, although it did mean a great deal to _me_, at least. And then there was the night that we decided to give us a go and to wait until I was free, before we did anything about it. And then there was That Night." Harry referred to it with capital letters. "So I guess I just see the start of our relationship being a progression of time and not just one date. But the night you first fucked me works for an anniversary, I guess. It was certainly the happiest day of my life up to that point."

Severus kissed Harry on the forehead. "Admirable job digging yourself out of that hole, young man."

Harry smiled at Severus. "Can I tell you something?"

"As long as it is not, 'I'm leaving you, Severus,' you may tell me whatever you like."

"It's not that. Never that," Harry assured him. "It's something that I've been thinking for as long as I can remember, and it's something I should have said long before now. I've _wanted_ to say it every day for a year, but I wasn't sure if you were ready to hear it, and I didn't want to scare you away if you weren't. It's something . . ."

"I love you," Severus blurted out, interrupting the young man's seemingly endless monologue.

Harry stopped, stunned. "That's what _I_ was going to say!" he complained.

"And now I have said it first," Severus said smugly. "In the annals of our relationship, let it be known that Severus Snape said 'I love you' first."

"I _knew_ I should have said it yesterday," Harry said with a smile. "You may have said it first, but I'm certain I _thought_ it first."

"You are probably right," Severus conceded. "I am remarkably slow when it comes to matters of the heart. But once I become aware of my feelings, I act on them immediately."

"Immediately? So you only became aware that you love me two and a half minutes ago?"

"Well, immediate may be a relative term in this context."

"So tell me when, then?"

"I believe it was when I had that stomach flu several months ago. I vomited on your shoes, remember?"

"I'm not likely to forget that!"

"You were more concerned about me than about the fact that I'd soiled your shoes. You cleaned me up and put me to bed, and you cared for me more tenderly than my own mother would have. I believe it was then that I knew that I had something special in you, and I realized that what I felt for you was more than gratitude, much more."

"So you bonded with me over vomit?" Harry asked with a mischievous grin.

"You are an unusual person, Harry Potter. Nothing normal ever happens around you, does it?"

"No, I suppose not. But I don't care how it happened, as long as it did. Why didn't you say something before?"

"For much the same reason you didn't, I expect. It is surprisingly terrifying to voice that sentiment for the first time when you are not completely sure how it will be received."

"How could you have doubted I'd be anything but thrilled to hear you say that? You know I would die for you, right?"

"Perhaps," Severus said with a put-upon, long-suffering sigh. "But despite the fact that I told you I loved you four minutes ago, you _still _have not said it in return. I am beginning to wonder just exactly who you _do_ feel."

Harry kissed Severus with every bit of love he felt for the man. When he stopped, he whispered, "You'll never have to wonder again, Severus Snape, because I intend to tell you I love you every day of my life from here on out. I love you, Severus. I love you."

Severus kissed Harry this time, and when that kiss ended, he said, "It's funny you should mention the word 'bonded.' Because I was wondering – " Severus pulled away from Harry, removed something from his trouser pocket, and dropped to one knee. "Would you do me the honor of bonding with me, Harry Potter?" He extended a gold band toward Harry. Manuel, who had been lacing himself around both their legs the entire time they'd been there, stood up on his hind legs, his paws on Severus' knee, to get a better look at whatever it was his men were going on about.

Harry's bottom jaw dropped. Nowhere in his imagination could he have thought that Severus would propose. Hell, if he was being completely honest, he'd have to confess that he hadn't even remembered that today was their anniversary, and he was quite astonished that Severus had. He was not normally a sentimental man. And then to find that the man had gone out and bought him a ring and was down on his knees right now, waiting for an answer to the most important question anyone had ever asked him.

Oh – he was waiting for an answer!

"Yes, Severus. God, yes!" He dropped to his knees to put himself level with his lover. He leaned in to kiss Severus excitedly, nearly toppling the man over backward in his enthusiasm.

Severus broke away from the kiss to place the ring on Harry's finger. "There," he said with some satisfaction. "Mine."

"Always," Harry assured him solemnly, cupping the beloved man's cheek with his hand. "For as long as I can remember and until the day that I die." He couldn't resist kissing him again, until finally Severus complained about his knees. Harry popped to his feet, then gave Severus a hand up.

"I've made dinner," Severus said.

"The table looks lovely."

"Then might I suggest you go sit, and I will be out directly."

"Can't I help?"

"Thank you, but I do not require assistance."

So Harry sat at the table and smiled and sniffed the air appreciatively when Severus delivered two crocks of French onion soup to the table. "First course," he said, sliding into the chair opposite Harry.

Harry reached across the table and covered Severus' hand with his own. Severus turned his hand over so that he could lace his fingers through Harry's. "Thank you, Severus." He looked down at the new piece of jewelry adorning his finger. "For everything."

"No, Harry," Severus said. "Thank you. If you had not had the fortitude to wait out my stubborn insistence that I felt nothing for you, we would not be here today. I would not have this incredibly fulfilling relationship, and I would not be soon bonded to the only person I have ever loved. I look back on all the roads I have taken in my life, all the wrong turns, all the stretches that seemed endless and desolate, the detours and the dead ends, and I realize that I wouldn't have it any other way if they all led me here to you, to this moment." He raised his wine glass to toast his young lover.

"Good thing I'm such a pain in the arse, huh?" Harry said with a happy smile.

"Yes," Severus agreed. "But you are _my _pain in the arse. Forever."

The end

47


End file.
